I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow
by BlueEyedBrit
Summary: Life works in mysterious ways. It has a way of helping you when you think you are helpless. Bella hasn't had an easy life. Left with only one unloving and abusive parent, she lives day by day, wondering when the next brick will fall from her ever crumbling life... Enter Edward, the boy who has it all. Or does he? Follow them as they fight the inevitable friendship and maybe more...
1. Chapter 1: 'Her obedient slave' (BPOV)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi! Thanks for coming to my new story. It is my first attempt at posting a story. I want to tell you a bit about this story before you begin it, and then I promise that after this chapter, the AN's won't be so long!**

**This story comes with a WARNING! It will include abuse, specifically between a parent and a child. This story has a dark element from the very beginning, but I can promise you right now, I 100% plan for this story to be a HEA! You have my word! With that being said, it will be a long process to get there.**

**I had planned to write the entire story before beginning the process of posting it, however, I came to the decision to post the first chapter earlier than planned. I want to see what type of reaction it gets before I get too far into it. I have about seven chapters already written, so depending on how this chapter is reviewed, I will be posting once a week.**

**So, that's pretty much it. This story will have abuse, but I also plan for lemons later on ;). It is a Bella Edward story, though he isn't introduced until around 3/4 chapters in. It will have alternating POV's between Edward and Bella, but I don't have a specific pattern or order that they appear in. Each chapter will have it's specific character's POV included in it's title, as this one does.**

**Please do review, let me know what you think. Honestly! Is it too dark, too angsty? Is it too detailed, too complicated? Do you want to read on? Is there anything I should change? Like I said, this is my first attempt so I'd really love to hear your feedback!**

**One more thing; I am British but this story is set in America. If there are any terms or vocabulary that I incorrectly use, then I apologise in advance and would appreciate you telling me so I can correct it and know for the future. Thanks!**

**Well, that's it. Here's my first chapter... after a little disclaimer and the summary!**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!**

**_Summary: Life works in mysterious ways. It has a way of helping you when you think you are helpless. Bella hasn't had an easy life. Left with only one unloving and abusive parent, she lives day by day wondering when the next brick will fall from her ever crumbling life... Enter Edward, the boy who has it all. Or does he? Follow them as they fight the inevitable friendship and maybe more... Warning: ABUSE... and maybe some lemons _****_;) ... AH story._**

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter One: 'Her obedient slave' (Bella POV)

_Saturday 8 April 2017_

With a sigh that clearly speaks of my exhaustion, I slump down into my dining chair. Staring down at the plate of food in front of me, I feel my stomach churn. I'm hungry (almost so hungry that the God-knows-how-old half a sandwich I'd found under my mom's bed, with spots of green mould starting to appear on the hard pieces of bread, thirty-five minutes ago looked appetising) yet the pizza slice on my plate causes bile to rise in my throat. With it's blackened crust and dry dough - there is literally no tomato sauce on what is supposed to be a cheese and _tomato_ slice of pizza - it has the ability to put the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles off of pizza. _For life._

With a gulp, in an attempt to swallow back the nausea I'm feeling, I slowly pick up the slice in my right hand. It's cold. _Great_. I sat down fifteen minutes after my plate was put onto the table. My mother, who is sat opposite me crunching away at her fourth slice of burnt pizza, "_forgot_" to call me to the table once it was ready.

I'm on rations tonight - punishment for arriving home late, albeit two minutes late - and for once I feel happy about it. I won't have to force down any more than this one piece thanks to my punishment. This isn't the first time my meal portion has been decreased in size, and it won't be the last. Usually it's a harder punishment to handle because I've had to cook the meal that I'm not getting much of. But tonight, Renee - that's my mom - cooked it, and it shows in the quality of the food. She's got no skills in the kitchen anymore, probably because it's been so long since she cooked a proper homemade meal.

As I chew the tough, stale tasting pizza, I think about what I'd have been eating had I made it home on time. If I had arrived home three minutes earlier, _I _would have been the one to make dinner tonight - like I do every night. I would've thrown together a curry, or perhaps some fajitas. It depends on what's in the cupboards. Just the thought of any other food besides this almost inedible pizza has my stomach grumbling. Loudly.

It's my own fault. I know my mother's rules. I'm not to miss curfew - straight home after work on weekdays, 5:30pm on Saturdays and 4:00pm on Sundays - and I must do all the chores expected of me, which is pretty much every damn chore in the household. I can only go out on the weekends if I finish most, if not all, of my chores beforehand - if I don't finish them then I have to give myself enough time once I'm home (whether I choose for that to be before or on my curfew) to finish them off.

It's been this way for around five and a half years now. I'm used to it, for the most part. I've had no choice but to get used to it really. It doesn't even bother me most of the time... _well, not anymore. _There's just the odd day where I make stupid mistakes, like today. _So stupid..._

I lost track of time doing what I love to do the most: _nothing_! I was at _my_ place; the sun was shining down on me, I had my headphones on with music playing, my eyes were closed, and I just lost all sense of time. I was in my own little world... until a song came on that I wasn't in the mood to listen to. I picked up my cell phone to skip it, and only _then_ did I see what time it was. Only _then_ did I start freaking out. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ I should've been checking the time frequently, like I do most days when I'm out having '_me_' time in _my_ place.

My place... it's the most beautiful place in the whole world. Anyone to lay their eyes on it would fall in love instantly. I remember my first time seeing it like it was only last week, when in fact, it was actually nearly four years ago. I remember every detail of that day, the lead up to finding it, and then the moment I finally saw it for the first time. I remember all of it vividly...

**_Flashback - Thursday 24 May 2013_**

_My feet slap against the concrete slabs that are our porch steps as I storm out of our house. I can hear Renee screaming my name from inside, warning me not to leave, "_or else_". A part of my brain, the part that holds all of my self-preservation and intelligence, is begging me to turn back and just face the punishment I'm bound to recieve. Compared to the one I'll face for ignoring her, turning back seems like the more sensible option._

_The more stupid and less rational portion of my brain, however, is willing me to stick to my guns and carry on forward like my mother isn't scaring away the birds and squirrels from the trees around our house with her shrill voice._

_I listen to the more stupid and less rational part of my brain. I don't turn back. I keep my steps forward facing, pick up my speed, and walk to my simple grey-framed bicycle that's chained up to the mailbox post at the end of our small front yard. I thumb the keys from my coat pocket - luckily I'd thought to grab my coat, and my backpack, from the bannister as I ran from the upstairs landing - and fumble through the task of unlocking the chain._

_I'm on my bicycle and down the street by the time my mom has made it to the mailbox. When I glance behind me just before I turn the corner to leave her sights completely, Renee is looking scary enough to shrink that more stupid and less rational part of my idiotic brain a little, with her face flaming red and her fists clenched in undeniable anger._

_I don't know where I'm going exactly, just that I'm... _going_. I want to leave. Leave my home, leave this town, leave _her_. Everything is so messed up and I don't even know where it all started going wrong._

That's a lie_, the more sensible and smart section of my brain reminds me._

_Yes, it is a lie. In truth, I _do_ know where it all went wrong, but I'd rather not think about that at all._

_I cycle and I cycle, gaining speed with every rotation of the pedals until my legs can't pump any faster. Tears are streaming down my face, blowing this way and that with the wind as it streaks past my biting cheeks. I try to hold my sobs in, not wanting to cause myself to fall from the bicycle, but it's no use. After I-don't-know-how-long, eventually the tears filling my eyes blur my vision too much, and I fall. My bicycle skids away from me, scratching agaisnt the tarmac of the road as I hit the floor with an agonising 'thud' and a partial slide. _That's going to leave a mark_, I think to myself, grimacing through the tears_. _Good thing I know how to mend myself. It's not like I haven't had the practise._

_Luckily I've landed on the very edge of the road, not in the middle and in harms way. I inspect my knees and hands, and when I see no damage on them (the scrapes are on my hip and elbow; I can feel the open wounds stinging as they press against my clothes) I carefully, and clumsily, climb to my feet. I stumble and wobble as I stand slowly, and when I go to pick up my bike a few yards away from me, the sight of an opening in the treeline that borders this specific road stops me in my tracks._

_I'm bent at the waist, my fingertips barely brushing the handlebars of my bicycle as I stare down the road that seems to have just appeared out of no where. It's at an extremely acute angle in the trees - so acute, in fact, that it's practically impossible to see from the direction I was coming from, and it would definitely be impossible to see at night. I try to think back to all the times I've travelled this road and how I've never seen this opening, until I actually look around and realise I don't recognise this road._

_But I know where I am._

_Forks, located in Washington State in the Pacific Northwest, is my hometown and the only place I've ever known. It's surrounded by, and in some places submerged in, trees and trees and more trees. Forests encase Forks like a thick green cuccoon. It's a very small town. It's one of those towns where everybody knows everybody. All the kids go to school_ _together and their parents went to school together and _their_ parents probably went to school together, too. Gossip is a vital cog in the social machine here, and if anyone new shows up, it's known by every member of town before the newcomers have barely even pulled into their driveway. Because it's not a very large town, travelling from one place to the other doesn't_ _take long at all. Every person of Forks has most likely seen the entire town and all that it offers, which, to be honest, isn't much._

_But, with that being said, if you travel far enough east, you'll find yourself in a part of town that no one ever really sets foot in. It's a long winding sideroad - a road that leads no where. If I were to continue the way I was heading before I fell, I'd have eventually hit a dead end, _supposedly_._

_I've never been down this road myself, but I've heard of it. Teens come down here on dares every now and then, though most of them probably never go through with it; there's a rumour that the bottom of this road, the dead end, is haunted - by what, I have no clue - and it gets so dark because of all the overgrown trees that the forest comes alive and swallows you whole._

_It's a load of rubbish, and I know that, which is why I'm curious enough to want to see what's _really_ down there. However, my twelve-year-old self is even _more_ curious about the opening in the trees and what could be down _there_. I try peering down to the other end, but the trees that border either side of the road eventually engulf it in darkness._

_I waste no time in hopping back onto my scratched but still usable bicycle, before cycling down the road. My heart is hammering in my chest as I venture down the mysterious road. My hip stings and nips painfully with every push and pull of my pedalling feet, but I work hard to ignore the pain and force my way through. The darkness disappears as I reach it, the daylight filtering through the overhang of branches and leaves from the tremendously tall trees up above me. It lights the way for me._

_After at least a full minute of hard-core cycling, the road expands left and right, providing a wide expanse of paved ground. My eyes slowly raise and my mouth drops open in awe as I see what stands at the end of the long, mysterious road. The paved ground is a drive way, though in my opinion it's too big to simply be called a drive way, for a humongous house._

_It's the biggest house I've ever seen in person. Bigger than the Mayor of Forks' house! From the front it appears to have two floors, just as a normal house does, but those two floors seem to be twice the height of a regular house's. The walls are tall, and placed in a weird format. It's not a simple four walled, square house. There's a long wall at the other end of the drive way, where it finishes, that has two garage doors side by side, one longer than the other. The wall above that only has a couple of small windows that cut into the roof of the garage, or what I'm assuming is the garage._

_The rest of the house then comes off of the 'garage' at a 90 degree angle. There are so many little walls jutting out that it would be impossible to explain in an understandable way. You'd have to see it for yourself to fully appreciate the magnificence of it. The walls all end at different distances from, rather than in line with, the front door. The whole house has steeply pitched roofs that lay both vertically and horizontally. The rubblework white stucco walls and half timbers that are exposed on one or two of the walls give the structure a really ancient feel. It's complicated... but it's magnificent._

_I lean my bicycle up agaisnt a tree on the outskirts of the driveway, drop my bag at the front wheel, and mindlessly start walking towards the house, looking around as I do. Trees surround the property, though that isn't much of a surprise with it being in Forks. Close to the house the grass is thick, slightly overgrown, but the gorgeous deep pink flowers that sprout from between the blades of grass make the property even more beautiful. I wouldn't want to cut the grass, for fear of destroying the lovely flowers. I can hear the distinct sound of water, like there's a river or stream close by, probably somewhere amongst the copious amount of trees._

_As I finally look up at the house once more, I start to wonder what kind of family would live here. It'd be a large family, if the size of the house is any indication. The dad and older kids could play soccer out here, at the front of the house, while the mother and younger ones could sit on a blanket on the grass over there with a picnic. I can feel my cheeks straining with the megawatt smile on my face._

_However, my cheeks slowly relax, my smile falling away as I get close enough to the house to touch the wall with an outstretched hand. _What if a family already lives there?_ My brain disrupts the wonderful images my imagination was conjuring up._

Damn brain!_ But... what if?_

_I quickly step up to the closest window, but it's too high up above my head to look into, even if I jump. Now feeling cautious, I tip-toe round to the right of the house, breathing a sigh of relief when I see a window that's lower down the wall than the one at the front. I stop below the window, about to stretch up on my tiptoes to see inside, when I notice a steep dip in the ground about two thirds along the right wall I am currently stood at. The grassed land curves downwards, sloping until I can't see it. Further ahead I can see more grass, and more trees at a lower level of ground to the front of the house._

_I shake my head, silently telling myself to get on with the task at hand. After peering inside, it becomes extremely clear that no one lives here. From the little I could see through this window, it's bare in there, void of any belongings at all. And from the little I could see, the house is as wonderful on the inside as it is on the outside. I do a mini victory dance, happy to not be breaking the law and trespassing._

_Wait!_

Someone_ owns this land... which means I'm still technically trespassing. My happiness fades away rapidly as I take another look around, this time checking for anyone that could catch me here. When it's obvious no one is around, I don't feel any less guilty. With a longing look in the direction of the back of the house, I sigh and turn away, begrudgingly walking back to my bicycle. My curious twelve-year-old brain wants to know what's down the dip in the ground about two thirds along that right wall. But as much as I want to, I know I can't take anymore risks._

_I'm about five-feet from my bicycle when my eyes catch sight of a gap, larger than all the others, between two of the tall trees that stand opposite the house, on the other side of the giant drive way. The spaces between each of the trees are fairly normal as far as forestry goes. The gap that caught my attention is almost double the size of the others. It's quite hidden by low hanging branches and the thick leaves, but if you're looking at it from a head on approach, it's not _too_ difficult to spot._

_I step up to it and poke my head through the gap. An obvious trail begins at the gap between those two trees, and disappears into the forest. I consider my options for a minute or two..._

_Option A (which is inevitable _eventually_): go home and face the wrath of my mother, who I defied on a major level, and recieve my punishment(s)._

_Option B: leave here and cycle around Forks until I can't stall any longer and have to result back to Option A._

_Or, Option C: follow this trail and see where it takes me; have an adventure. Option A can wait a little longer._

_It doesn't take me long to decide. I go to step forward until my safety finally registers in my brain, which is so clouded by the thought of an adventure I hadn't even thought about the possibility of getting lost. Feeling saddened and down trodden at the realisation that I can't stick with Option C, unless I want to lose myself in the forest with no one who knows where I am to come find me and I die of starvation or dehydration or hypothermia or I get attacked by a wild animal, I head to my bicycle._

_I'm swinging my bag onto my back, grimacing at the tort stinging on my elbow from my injury, when the zip of my bag somehow comes apart, silently unzipping. All of my belongings spill out onto the ground at my feet. I'd be angry, feeling even more mad at the world, if the large bundle of yellow ribbon strips that comes tumbling out of my bag hadn't caught my eye._

_Earlier today, in an art lesson, we had to use some coloured ribbon. Each person had to choose one colour to use. I wanted the dark blue, which was limited, but Michael Newton staked his claim to that first. I was so hung up on not getting my dark blue ribbon that soon, most of the other colours had been taken, too, until I was left with the yellow._

_I'd been sulking all lesson - I hate yellow - so by the end of the hour, I was no where near being finished with the assigned work. Miss Lydia, our art teacher, told me to take it home and bring it in completed the next day. That art project is what I'd been doing when my mom stormed into my room and demanded to know why I hadn't put away her clean clothes in her drawers and wardrobe... _it's the reason I ran out today.

_My hatred for the yellow ribbon is all forgiven when the most brilliant idea I've ever had comes to mind. I scoop up the bundle of ribbon, not caring about all my other belongings, and run to the opening of the newly discovered trail. I enter, my heart pounding in my chest - this once for a good reason. I follow the path of the trail, or at least what I'm _hoping_ is the path of a trail, tightly tying strips of yellow ribbon around branches as I go, marking my route. I feel like Hansel when he drops a trail of bread crumbs to follow home. I just hope birds don't come and destroy my ribbons the way they ate the crumbs poor Hansel and Gretel were planning to rely on._

_I'm not sure where I am going, or what I'm hoping to find. I don't even know if I'm actually _planning_ to find _anything_. This adventure is a bit pointless, but it's fun and beats going home and facing _her_._

_I'm walking between trees now, on no particular path. I kind of ventured from the trail about five minutes ago, opting to take yet another risk and make my own path. _It's okay; I have the ribbons,_ I tell myself, but I'm still nervous._

_I've been walking for a total of about fifteen minutes, I'd say, and I'm close to running out of yellow ribbon, when all of a sudden I trip on a large tree root that's protruding from the earth. I fall, rather ungracefully, to the ground, landing on my front and just barely dodging a mouthful of dirt. I fell into some type of bush on the way down, one that just had to have thorns. The slight fresh sting on my left ear and right cheek are proof I didn't make it down unscathed._

_Keeping my face close to the ground, and my mouth tightly shut, I belly crawl under the thorny bush until it's safe for me to stand on the other side without snagging my hair or clothes, or God forbid more skin whilst doing so. I stand, stumbling slightly, as I do a self-assessment. Dirt has marked my clothes and skin. _Great! Another thing for Mom to be mad at. _I sigh unhappily as I brush off the dirt as best I can._

_Finally, I look up. And all the air leaves my lungs. The sight before me is... well it's magical. Absolutely stunning. I can't believe what I am seeing. That nasty, painful bush - just an ugly bunching of twigs and thorns and leaves - was hiding the most beautiful place in the whole world. It's even more beautiful than the house I discovered no more than half an hour ago, and that's saying something._

_It's amazing... _wow!

_I've landed in a meadow. A breathtakingly beautiful meadow. It's a large secluded open field, scattered with eye-catching flowers and blooms. They litter the ground with bursts of colour; a variety of purple, pink, blue, yellow and white flowers. Then, of course, there's the dominating colour of green. The long blades of grass that fill the meadow, the leaves on the trees that surround the meadow... they all contribute to it's wonderful colour spectrum._

_Before my thoughts can catch up with my actions, I'm walking deeper into the meadow. I take thoughtless steps forward, getting closer to the center. When the sun reaches me, warming my skin, I look skyward and it is _then_ that I realise how the sun rays hit the meadow so perfectly, like a spotlight. The sun is focused directly into the center of the meadow, where I am now, and it only enhances the stunning view all around me._

_I want to cry with glee. It's so magical. So perfect._

_I don't want to leave. Ever._

_That's when I really _do_ start crying. I cry because of what I've had the chance to see in person. I cry because soon I'll have to leave it behind me. I cry because of my life, and what it's become after... _No! Don't think about that!

_I take deep, calming breaths and wipe my eyes and cheeks dry. I don't know what time it is, I don't have a cell phone like some of my friends at school and I forgot my watch at home. I sigh, turning to face the way I'd entered. It's quite obvious from _this_ side of the bush. The disastrously thorny thing is the ugliest plant in the entire meadow, yet from inside the meadow it's still beautiful. Nothing, not even a dangerous bush such as that one can ruin this place._

_I begin slowly walking towards the exit, taking relentless, longing glances around the meadow, attempting to soak as much of it into my memory as possible. Once I can't prolong the inevitable any longer, I leave. I don't try to crawl underneath again. Instead, I take a few steps back in preparation, grit my teeth, count to ten, and just run at the bush as fast as I can._

_I make it through fairly uninjured, just a few scratches on my hands and forearms. Luckily it's not a dense shrub, or else I'd probably have gotten stuck half way through. The density of it is most likely how I fell through it so easily, too. The branches parted a bit as I ran through, so maybe it's two bushes that have grown really close together?_

_I take one last look at the meadow's entrance, feeling a heaviness in my heart I've only ever felt three times before today, at times I'd lost someone incredibly precious to me. This time, it's a __some_thing._ As I follow my strategically placed yellow ribbons, it feels like I'm leaving a part of _me _behind. It feels wrong._

_At some point on my walk back to the house, and my belongings, I make a vow to myself: I will come back here, to this house and to the meadow. This won't be the last time. And next time I come, it'll be the first of many visits._

_Two days later I have a few hours to myself, and that's when I return to the road that leads to a dead end. I don't stop and think this time, I just immediately turn down the long road that's at an acute angle and cycle all the way to the massive house. I stay, staring at the house for a few minutes, letting my imagination run wild again, before I head into the trail._

_The yellow ribbons have stayed mostly, only a few have come loose, fallen off and disappeared. It's not too difficult to work out where to go without the missing ribbons. For the rest of those few hours I have free, I walk back and forth, back and forth along the trail._

_I come back the next time I have a free couple hours, three days later, and again I walk back and forth. By the end of that second visit back to the meadow, I've memorised the trail. I know the way to _my_ place off by heart, as if I'd known the way my whole life._

**_End of Flashback_**

My meadow is the only place I can feel completely safe and at total peace. There is no where else in the world that can provide me with the serenity that my meadow does. I call it _my_ meadow, _my_ place, because as far as I'm aware, nobody else knows about it. _Nobody_. In all the years I've been visiting my meadow, I've not seen another living soul anywhere near it, and I'll be over the moon happy if it stays that way forever, and then some.

It's mine.

It's the place I go to when I'm having a bad day, when I'm feeling down and need some time alone, which is most of the damn time. I go to my place any chance I get. But between school, work and the demands of my home life, I don't visit it as often as I'd like.

Weekends are the only time I really get the chance. On weekdays, once I've finished school I go to work. And once I've finished work I have to come straight home. That's one of my mother's rules. When I'm not at school or work, I have chores to keep me busy. My mom likes the house to be spotless twenty-four-seven, but she doesn't maintain this goal herself. It's down to me. On weekends, the days are taken up with chores and homework. If I'm lucky I'll get a few hours to myself on a Saturday and Sunday, which I use to my advantage and escape to my place.

When I'm at my place, I like to do several things. Sometimes I do nothing but listen to my music, like I'd been doing today before I realised the time and rushed home. Sometimes I read. I'm quite the bookaholic. My love of reading stems from my grandparents, who both attended a book club together for most of their lives - it's where they met actually. However, more times than not, while at my meadow I like to write in my journal.

I've been keeping a journal for years, ever since I was 8 years old and could write full sentences that made actual sense. My grandmother got me into journalling, just as she and my grandfather had gotten me into reading. Journalling was something Nana Swan had done since _she _was a little girl. She'd kept them all, every single one. They are now stored in several metal boxes (because there are too many to fit in just one), locked away and safely kept under my bed. I've never read them, I wouldn't dream of delving into the privacy of her mind and thoughts like that, but knowing they are there is like having a piece of her still with me.

In my journals I write my thoughts and feelings. It started out being _only_ that. It started out as a pass time to write what I had been thinking that day and how I'd felt about certain things that had happened. As the years passed and I grew older and more comfortable with writing in these journals, the contents of them progressed.

It changed from me simply putting black ink to paper at the end of each day, from writing more of a diary than a journal, to eventually scribbling thoughts as soon as they came to me. I started using coloured pens and adding sketches around what I'd write, though they were all pretty awful. It's progressed so much that I'm almost never without my journal now. If an idea for a book I'll never write or a funny sarcastic remark at something I see enters my brain, I write it down in my journal as soon as I can.

I also write poems, and those poems often lead to song lyrics. It's a secret obsession of mine. I'm as much into my music as I am my reading and journalling. I can play the piano pretty well. I took lessons from the age of five, for about five years. My teacher called me a natural, and I still try to play as often as I can, though just like the visiting of my meadow, I don't get to do so nearly as much as I'd like.

I tried playing the guitar, too. My father could play to some extent. And his father, my Grandad ChaCha (his nickname for two reasons; A, Cha is a really shortended version of his first name, Charles. And B, he was freakishly good at the ChaCha Slide), could play the guitar like it was an extra limb attached to his body, like it was a part of him. But I wasn't a natural at guitar, and besides, the lessons stopped before they'd barely begun.

Even though I virtually keep my journal with me at all times, my favourite place to write is my meadow. It's where I feel most at home, most free to do as I please. It's where I feel most comfortable. If I compose a new poem or song, I like to read and sing them out loud. And I can only do that at my meadow, where I have complete privacy. I like to do this because it's nice to pretend my father can hear me. He passed away some years ago. He...

I like to think he can hear me, that he's watching down on me and that he's proud... even if there's not much to be proud of. There are times when I'm sat in the center of my meadow, singing or speaking _to_ him, and the soft breeze blows stronger or the sun seems to brighten ever so slightly. It's at those times I truly believe that he really is listening to me.

I have no other place to speak to him. I know some would say that his burial site is an option, but I just... _can't_. I can't go there. The last time I stood at his grave was at Nana Swan's funeral. She was buried in between my father and her beloved husband, my Grandad ChaCha. After her burial, which was less than eight months after my dad's own funeral, I stood at his graveside. I put flowers down, cried for a while, said one or two things, and left. I've not gone back since. I've tried, but I never make it past the Cemetery gates.

The meadow is the place I feel closest to him. And as long as I have that, I won't need to go to the Cemetery.

"Isabella!" Renee's impatient call of my name drags me out of my thoughts. I look up from my plate to look at her and I am met with an ice cold gaze. "Are you going deaf as well as dumb, child? I've been calling your name for ages!"

"I'm sorry," I respond immediately, my face flushing red, "I was... daydreaming."

She rolls her hazel eyes and tuts loudly. "Well, daydream in your own damn time. I shouldn't have to wait for you to acknowledge me when I'm in need of your attention," she snaps. I look down at my lap, chastised. "Now, are y--look at me when I am talking to you!" My head jerks up, obeying instantly. She gives me a pointed look, silently telling me to behave, before continuing, "--are you going to sit there staring at your plate for the rest of the evening, or are you going to get up and tidy this away? You aren't going to be getting any more food, so you can think again if you were hoping to get another slice of pizza. It's your own fault. You shouldn't have broken your curfew."

I stand silently, keeping my eyes on the table and away from her judgemental watching gaze as I stack our plates and pick up the pizza tray that has half a burnt pizza still sat on top. I carry it all through to the kitchen and get started. I bin the remaining pizza, knowing Renee will want something entirely different for dinner tomorrow evening - she'll never accept leftovers - and then start doing the dishes.

As I sink my hands into the scolding hot dish water, I think about all that I've had to do today. After getting up this morning at 8:00AM, I made my bed, had a bowl of cereal for breakfast and a quick cup of tea, before getting dressed and starting with my usual Saturday chores.

I gave the bathroom a thorough clean, which I do every Saturday. I bleached the toilet, emptied the cabinet above the sink and cleaned all the shelves in there before putting everything back inside to polish the mirror that's attached to the front of the cabinet door. I then cleaned the sink, and finally the bath tub along with the shower head that hangs on the wall at the head of the tub. All of this I had to do as quietly as possible, as just down the hall, Renee was fast asleep. She usually wakes up around 11:00AM on a Saturday, giving me enough time to get the bathroom all nice and ready for when she needs to use it. I'm thankful we only have one bathroom in the house, and that it's not a very big one.

After that I went downstairs and started making a full English breakfast, Renee's favourite, which was ready by the time she came downstairs, freshly showered and dressed. With no greeting, just a grunt that I always accept as a 'thank you' from her, I left my mother to eat while I went upstairs to make her bed, and then spend a couple of hours on my homework.

At around 1:00PM I began with the next thing on my Chore Chart. It's old and my child-like handwriting from when I first created it isn't as easy to read anymore, but I've been doing these chores for so long that, to be honest, I hardly have to look at it now.

I was eleven when Renee dumped the tasks of the housekeeping on me. She didn't do it in a subtle way. She stopped me from going to my room one day after I got home from school, sat me down, and pulled out a crinkled piece of paper from her pocket. On it was a list of chores, chores that she now expected _me_ to do. My eleven year old brain couldn't quite believe it...

**_Flashback - Friday 13 January 2012_**

_I sit on the dining chair opposite Mom. My heart is beating a little faster than normal, as I know that when she sits me down at the dining table to talk, it's about something serious._

_She sat me here when she told me that my goldfish died when I was five._

_When I was six, my dad sat beside me at this table while he told me that we didn't have enough room for a grand piano, like I'd wanted - this seemed serious to me._

_At seven, this is where my parents told me we wouldn't be going on our planned trip to Disney World in Florida because Grandad ChaCha was ill._

_And this is where I was sat when the police told me that my Dad was gone. Forever._

_I wait as patiently as I can for my mom to start talking. "Isabella," she begins. She stopped calling me by my preferred name, Bella, a few days after my dad's funeral, almost fifteen months ago. "I've come to the realisation that I am going to need some help around the house. There is too much for me to do all by myself, and seeing as _you _are the only other person here to help me, I am going to need you to pitch in."_

_"Okay."_

_"Here's the list of chores __you__ will have to complete, starting from Monday," she tells me, reaching into her pocket to pull out a folded piece of crinkled paper. She passes it to me with a smile. I smile back at her as I take it, but my face quickly falls when I see just how much is on the list, and what jobs she wants me to do._

_"C-clean the toilet? ... _Vacuum_? I'm not even tall enough to _use _the vacuum yet!"_

_"Don't be ridiculous, Isabella. You're over exaggerating. You're perfectly capable of using the vacuum. And cleaning the toilet isn't as bad a job as it sounds."_

_"Then why can't _you_ do it?" I ask, my voice small. Mom's jaw clenches as she sighs._

_"Because _I_ have other, more important jobs to be doing. I don't see what the problem is. You must have friends that do chores at their homes?"_

_"I do, but-"_

_"Well then," she interrupts, "stop complaining. You've had it lightly here. I've never asked you to do anything besides keep your room tidy. I think it's time you started doing more."_

_"But why do _I_ have to make _your _bed?" I ask, appalled after noticing that amongst the many other chores on the list._

_"Because it's a tedious job that I shouldn't have to waste my time doing." She shrugs. I sigh but nod slowly. "Any questions or are we done here? There's a rerun of _'The Real Housewives of Cheshire'_ that I've recorded. I'd like to get a few of them watched before I have to... _actually_..." she stops mid-sentence, a thoughtful look on her face. "Give me that!" She stretches forward to snatch the paper from my hands. Pulling a pen from her pocket, she starts scribbling something down. Soon, she's passing the list back to me. I look down at it and can't stop my jaw from dropping open when I see what she has added._

**Cook dinner**

_"W-what? ... When?" I stutter, flustered. She says nothing. "Every night?" I ask, fishing for an answer. I'm astonished as Renee nods happily. "B-but... I don't even know how to use the oven! Or the stove! I can't make dinner for us _every night,_" I protest._

_"Isabella Marie Swan, do not argue with me! You can and you will." With a face like thunder, she stands up with enough force to send her chair screeching agaisnt the floorboards. I stand quickly, too, clutching the list in my hands as I follow her out of the dining room and into the family room._

_"Mom, _please. _I can't cook. I don't know how." I beg. She stops suddenly and turns on her heel, glowering down at me._

_"Well you better start learning then, hadn't you? There's some ready-made meals in the fridge. They'll be fine for this weekend. And then, Isabella," she softens her voice, bending slightly to place her hands on her knees, bringing herself closer to my height, "you can go and use this _wonderful_ invention called the Internet. It'll tell you _all_ you need to know about what to do in the kitchen." I ignore her condescending attempt at sarcasm._

_"B-but... _how_? How can I do all of _this_," I stress, holding up the list, "_and_ learn how to cook? I have homework, too! Miss. Davenport said we mustn't hand our English worksheets in late or we'll get detention. And she never lies! How will I do it all?" I'm exasperated now, trying to desperately make my point clear to my mom. Can't she see how much time this will all take?_

_I don't give up._

_"And I was going to start reading Nana's copy o__f _'Little Women'_ this weekend. The one Daddy got her for-" my words are cut off with a slap across my face. My head whips to the side. My left cheek is burning, and tears have sprung to my eyes. I gingerly bring my hand up to cup my cheek. I dare to raise my watery eyes to my mom's face, only to be met with a furious gaze._

_This is the second time my mom has hit me. After the first time she looked shocked and sorry. She apologised to me three hours later. This time, however, I see no shock. No remorse or apologies. She just stares at me with anger boiling in her eyes._

_"You want to read? Fine!" She wraps her fingers around my left wrist firmly, and yanks my hand away from my stinging face. Pulling me along behind her, she leads me to the kitchen. Her grip is tight. It feels like my arm is going to come out of its socket. She drags me through to the far side of the kitchen and stops us by the metal-framed shelving unit that stands agaisnt the wall at the top of the basement stairs. "Here!" she growls, pulling me forward with so much force that when she releases me, I go slamming into the unit._

_I cry out in pain, my chest and hip bone taking the brunt of the impact, but it's like she doesn't hear me. She's too focused on hauling one of the heavy hardcover cookbooks off of the top shelf. She shoves the book into my chest, giving me no warning, but I manage to raise my arms in just enough time to catch it. Before I know it she has turned to grab another one and deposits it into my now trembling arms. "Here you go," she snarls, "read these! They'll be much more useful than those silly fiction books _Evelyn_ made you read."_

Nana didn't _make_ me do anything,_ I think to myself. And the loathing with which she says Nana's name makes _me_ want to hit _her.

_"In fact," she mumbles to herself, "these will all be helpful. You love reading so much, have them _all._" She stretches up and swipes all the cookbooks from the top shelf to the floor. They land at our feet in loud thuds. I flinch as I jump back, dropping the two books I'm holding in the process._

_"Now," she sighs, placing her hands on her hips, "I'm going to watch my programme. I suggest you make some kind of plan over the weekend for your chores, which you will start from Monday. I would like to eat dinner before seven o'clock, please._

_After you've picked all these up, of course." She gestures to the pile of books. I nod silently, trying to keep the frown off of my face._

_She reaches out towards my face and I flinch, scared she will hit me again. She smiles at that, and I think I see a hint of smugness in her eyes, but I'm not sure... That, or I don't want to believe it. She tucks some of my long brown hair behind my ear, and strokes the side of my face. The side she slapped._

_Tears spring to my eyes. Not because I'm happy my mom is showing me affection, something she hasn't done in months, but because her eyes show nothing. As she strokes my face, there is no love or kindness. There's just... _nothing._ Her eyes, her face, hold no emotion. It's like she feels nothing when looking at me. Not anymore._

_She pulls her hand away, points to the cookbooks once with a stern expression, and then walks around me, exiting the kitchen. I pick up the books, and use a chair I dragged from the dining room to reach the top shelf. Luckily I know how to use the microwave, so I heat up something for us to eat, and then head up stairs to my bedroom. I don't resurface from my room for most of Saturday. That weekend I do just what my mom said to do; I make a __chore chart._

**_End of Flashback_**

When I was given the list, I had no idea where to start. I didn't know how often certain jobs needed to be done or how to even _do_ some of them. So, I used my mom's _sarcastic_ advice and went online. Using the information I found, I worked out a plan for my chores. In a highlighted box at the top of the chart I wrote all the chores that would need to be done daily. Then, I assigned weekly chores to each day of the week, spreading them out to make it easier. And the ones that, according to the Internet, needed to be done in monthly intervals, I spread out over a four week period.

It took me most of that weekend to create this chart. It took much planning and many attempts before I got it just the way I wanted it. It took so long that I didn't leave any time to do my homework, and in the end, I got that detention from Miss. Davenport for not handing in my English homework. When my mother found out, even though I had told her about Miss. Davenport's warning, she punished me. It was my first punishment from my mother - I was banned from reading any of my books for a week - and it definitely wasn't the last punishment.

It's the first Saturday of the four week cycle, which means that today's monthly chore was cleaning furniture. We basically have two living rooms, which means double the furniture. One at the back of the house, and one off the right of the entrance hall, at the front. The front one is the room I have known as the 'family room' my whole life. Now it should be called 'Renee's room'. She's not-so-subtly claimed it as _her_ entertainment room. In there is _her_ sofa and _her _TV, as she so eloquently put it to me several years ago. I just use the back living room now, when I have the time.

I went round the house, cleaning and polishing all the wooden furniture: coffee tables and end tables, the dining table and the wooden frames of the chairs, television stands, shelves, wardrobes, chest of drawers. I vacuumed the sofas, all of which are fabric. I had to wait for Renee to leave the _family _room for a while before doing any cleaning in there, so I didn't get in her way.

And after I did all of that, I finally threw myself through the shower rapidly, got dressed into something a little more suitable for the outside world, and went to my meadow. As I've already established, I was late home - by two minutes - and then did some homework until Renee called me for dinner, fifteen minutes late.

I finish washing the dishes and let them drain for a little while as I clean and wipe down the kitchen counter tops. Afterwards, I dry the washed dishes and put them all away. I give the kitchen a once over, making sure everything is in place before turning off the kitchen light and heading to the front room.

I stand beside the tan leather three-seater sofa and wait for Renee to acknowledge my presence. I stand there for a whole ten minutes, until her episode ends. Only _then_ does she turn to look at me, with a sigh, like _s__he _was just the one left waiting. She raises an eyebrow silently. "Do you need anything? I'm going to the back room to watch a movie," I tell her, before quickly adding a customary, "if that's okay with you."

"You can go watch a movie after you've gotten me a bowl of that vanilla ice cream that's in the freezer. Toppings, too." She turns her attention back to the TV, ultimately dismissing me, so I nod and turn to leave. "Oh," she exclaims from her lounging position on the sofa behind me, "a bottle of wine as well." I hold in my sigh as I nod, before leaving the room.

As I pick out a bottle from her well-stocked wine cupboard, I grimace in disapproval. I've noticed over the years that it's gone from "Isabella, go get me a _glass_ of wine," to, "Isabella, go get me a _bottle _of wine." And she doesn't just ask in the evenings anymore. Some days she'll demand a bottle with her lunch, and who am I to tell her that that is too early? I keep being her obedient slave and get her the wine as and when she wants it.

I make her a large bowl of the vanilla ice cream, put the bowl on a tray with a spoon, as well as the several bottles of different flavoured sauces and the tubs of sprinkles and small chocolatey toppings she's requested. I carry the tray through first, my stomach growling loudly at the sight of the dessert, before I run back to the kitchen to retrieve the wine bottle and a glass. Renee doesn't look away from the screen as she balances the tray on her lap. I pour her a glass of the wine, place it down on the end table beside her and leave the room silently.

After getting changed into my pyjamas, I go to the back living room and put in one of my favourite movies, _'__The Fault in Our Stars'._ The book is way better, as is almost always the case, but this movie is still a very good adaptation of the book in my opinion. It's rare for me to come in here and watch a movie so late. I can't remember the last time I actually did this. It's been a while. I'm usually up in my room, doing homework or reading or journalling, but tonight I'm just too tired to do any of that. When it's one of my monthly chore days, I tend to be more tired by the end of it.

I lay down across the green two-seater sofa that's in here, curling my legs up and resting my head on one of the throw pillows, hugging another to my chest.

I shouldn't have laid down, because just after Hazel comments to Gus that Vanessa must be in pain from Isaac's intense boob groping, I doze off.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"Wake the fuck up, you stupid girl!"

I'm startled into consciousness by the sound of Renee's fury-filled voice, which is _extremely_ close.

"Wake up!"

I blink and look up. Stood towering over me, in between the sofa and the TV, is Renee. "Sit up! _Now_!" she demands, not giving me a chance to obey before she tangles her fingers in my hair, painstakingly close to my scalp, and pulls me into a sitting position. I cry out, reaching up to my hair and her hand instinctively.

"How dare you waste my money like that!" She's screaming in my face, her hand still very much wound tightly in my hair.

"Huh?" I ask dumbly, the tears that have unsurprisingly appeared causing my voice to tremble.

"_You!_ Leaving the television on while you nap! Lazy _bitch_. Are you the one paying the electricity bill?" I attempt to shake my head, no, but her grip seems to tighten further. "Do you _want_ to be?"

I gulp back the lump in my throat. "No," I strangle out.

"Well don't waste the electricity like that again, or I _will_ take the bill charge out of your incomings," she states, gripping infinitely tighter before finally releasing me. I keep my eyes at her feet as I rub my sore scalp. "Turn everything off and lock up. I'm going to bed," she says, calmer, but with anger still lacing her words. Once she's gone I just sit in the middle of the sofa, letting a few silent tears fall, before I wipe them away and do as I am told.

**A/N: Please review! Let me know what you think! I'd love some feedback. Are you intrigued? Do you want to know more?**

**Thanks for reading! Depending on the response I get, I plan to post a chapter every at Monday (also depending on how fast i write new chapters! **

**Bye for now!**

**\- BlueEyedBrit**


	2. Chapter 2: 'The chain with the key' (B)

**A/N: Hello again. It's been a week and I'm back with the second chapter, as promised. I want to thank those of you who have 'followed' my story. It means a lot.**

**Just a quick note, in case anyone was wondering, the dates are added to help you follow the story as days, and occasionally weeks will pass by rather quickly.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot!**

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Two: 'The chain with the key' (Bella POV)

_Monday 10 April 2017_

The blaring of my alarm pulls me from my slumber suddenly. My eyes snap open and I groan quietly. A new day. A new week. I hate waking up. Sleep is so peaceful, so restful. I could sleep all day and night, and be the happiest person alive. _No_, that's not exactly true. If I could sleep in my meadow safely, surrounded by books and an endless supply of empty journals ready to be filled, with music playing, and perhaps a grand piano somewhere close by, _then _I'd be the happiest person alive.

I reach above my head and to the left, where my alarm clock is still droning out an incessant ringing. I turn it off and freeze, listening for any sound outside of my room. I hate my alarm because it's so loud. I need a new one. It's woken Renee on several occasions in the past, all of which didn't end with the best result for me. I'm surprised she hasn't come in here and disposed of it herself, to be honest.

My arm is still elevated in the air, and the heavy throb that pulses through my upper arm suddenly reminds me of my newest shiner. I pull my arm back to my side instantly, wincing as I recall what happened yesterday. With me leaving the television on after dozing off on Saturday evening, and then with what happened yesterday, it's safe to say my weekend wasn't all that great...

**_Flashback - Sunday 9 April 2017 [Yesterday]_**

_Sunday is meant to be a day of rest. People sleep in 'till late morning, maybe even early afternoon. They have a lazy day in their pyjamas, eat brunch instead of breakfast and most will have a roast dinner with their families in the afternoon. That's the way I imagine _other_ people spending their Sunday._

_I, however, am up and out of bed by 8:00AM. I'd much rather sleep in longer, feeling exhausted, but for some reason my mother likes getting up _earlier_ on a Sunday than she does on a Saturday. She's usually out of bed by 9:00AM on a Sunday, 9:30AM at the latest, depending on when she smells the bacon and sausages cooking. She likes to have a full English breakfast, _again_, on Sundays. It has to be on the table by the time she's down stairs._

_It takes me about 40 minutes to make this breakfast. When I first started making it, I messed up badly. I burnt the bacon to a crisp, which Renee hates, popped the yolk on her eggs, and managed to serve the beans cold. All these problems, and more, continued for my first five or so tries at it. I was thirteen then._

_Fortunately, Renee never asked for a full cooked breakfast such as these when I first started cooking, at age eleven. She only expected bacon and eggs with some toast back then._

_The demand for full breakfasts every weekend was introduced when over three years ago, on my thirteenth birthday, she left a small piece of paper on one of my bookshelves - knowing I go to them often - with the link to a site housing the recipe written on it and three words: _'Saturdays and Sundays'._ I got the hint loud and clear._

_My father was useless in the kitchen a majority of the time. But one thing he _was_ good at, besides preparing a freshly caught fish to be cooked, was making a mean full English breakfast. It's Renee's favourite _because_ of him._

_As I transfer the cooked sausages to a hot plate for now and start cutting the fat off the edge of the slices of bacon, I worry about what kind of mood she'll be in today. With the mood she went to bed in last night after finding me asleep with the television still on, I have a feeling she won't be very happy with me today. The same thoughts and questions are running through my mind: how unhappy will she be with me?_

_I have no clue._

_I'm just placing her plate onto the breakfast table, which is by the kitchen window, when Renee steps into the room and plops herself onto a chair. She immediately tucks in, stuffing her face with food. I try not to grimace at the sight as I place her steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She doesn't have the most pleasant eating habits for a grown woman__._

_I can feel her eyes on me as I turn away from her and head to the cereal cupboard. I quickly make myself a bowl and sit down opposite her, keeping my eyes locked on my breakfast. I have the first spoonful close to my open mouth when Renee speaks up for the first time. "I'd savor that if I were you," she begins around a mouthful of food, causing me to raise my gaze to hers, "'cause it's all you're getting today."_

_My eyes widen, my hand lowering the spoon to rest agaisnt the edge of the bowl as I stare at her, dumbfounded. "Don't look at me like that," she warns me sternly. "You need to be punished for last night. Leaving the television on when sleeping is something you know not to do. I hate wasting money, you know this. And electricity costs money, Isabella."_

_I feel my shoulders slump as she explains. No more food today? I look down at my small bowl of Frosted Flakes and I want to kick myself for not making a bigger bowl. _Crap!_ I sigh as quietly as I can, and begin lifting the spoonful to my mouth again. It barely touches my lips before I'm stopped again, this time by the _CLANG_ of metal cutlery hitting the table._

_I drop my spoon out of fright. It lands with a small _splash_ in my bowl. When I look up, Renee is glaring at me, her chest rising and falling aggressively with her suddenly heavy breathing. "Isabella, can you please tell me why I have no tomatoes with my breakfast?" She speaks in a menacingly calm voice, her teeth gritted together. It's scarier than when she shouts at me._

_My eyes flash to her plate and all the colour drains from my face when I see I have forgotten the tomatoes. _Shit!_ Renee always has two grilled tomatoes with her full English breakfast. I was so hung up on how angry she might be with me when she finally came down this morning, that I was too distracted to focus on what I was doing._

_"I-I'm sorry! I'll make them now. I'm s-so sorry!" I stutter out, my whole body shaking as I go to stand. Her shriek of anger halts me just as I raise myself from my chair_.

_"You stupid _stupid_ girl! Why do you always mess things up? Is it so hard to remember eight simple ingredients? You're useless!"_

_I wince at her insults. "I'm really sorry. I can make them for you now," I say desperately as I stand to my full height._

_"SIT. DOWN!" My butt hits the chair as soon as she barks her order at me. "I don't want to hear one more apology from you. It seems all you ever do is apologise to me, and to be quite frank _Isabella_, it's getting on my last fucking nerve! Why can't you go _one _day without screwing something up?" My eyes are clenched shut while I try to hold in my tears. "I don't want you to make me some _now._ They should have been on my plate the first fucking time it was placed down in front of me. Now my breakfast is ruined, thanks to _you!_"_

_I can sense her eyes on me. I can sense she's not finished reprimanding me, too. I open my eyes and look across the table at her. I was right. Her eyes are narrowed into thin slits, her focus firmly on me. As soon as my eyes meet hers, she continues speaking. "So you know what?" she whispers across the table darkly. There's a pause. In the same hair-raising whisper, she says, "You ruined my breakfast, I'll ruin yours."_

_In a sudden flash of movement, she swipes my bowl off of the kitchen table. I watch, stunned. It's like it all happens in slow motion. I watch as my breakfast, my _only_ source of food for the day, flies through the air and falls to the floor, the ceramic bowl smashing into tiny pieces while milk and sugar-coated corn flakes spills everywhere. _

_I gape, horrified. Out the corner of my eye I can see Renee. She's back to eating her breakfast like nothing has happened. I turn to look at her fully. I gulp once before speaking up, my voice quivering. "C-can I-"_

_"If you ask me for another bowl of cereal, you'll regret it," she interrupts me, pointing her knife at me casually without raising her eyes to mine. I shut my mouth immediately. I _was_ going to ask for another bowl of cereal, seeing as that's all I was allowed today, but it's obvious the answer will be 'no'._

_I didn't even get one mouthful of the cereal though._

_I sit in silence as she finishes off her plate of food, my eyes in my lap as I pick at one of my finger nails. _It needs filing._ I hear a contented sigh sometime later and look up to see one of my mother's rare smiles. Nothing about it is warm and comforting. "You may leave the table and clean this all up now, Isabella." She places her hands on her full stomach and leans back in her chair, preparing to watch me while I clean._

_Once everything is spotless - once the floor has been mopped, the pieces of broken bowl all picked up and binned, once the room is back to its former state - my mother stands from her chair. She speaks as she walks to the kitchen door slowly, "I'm going to watch some TV and look over an email I got from work." She stops by the door and turns to me. "I'd like a bottle of wine. Red, if we have any in." I sigh loudly as I turn to the cupboard that's behind me, where I know one bottle of red wine is stored._

_In three long and loud strides, Renee is close behind me. She grasps my upper arm tightly and spins me to face her. "Did you just _sigh_ at me?" she shouts in my face, drops of spit landing on my skin._

_I try to move back a bit, but her grip on my arm doesn't let up. "Answer me!" she bellows. I shake my head back and forth with such force that my brain feels a little funny afterwards. She steps forward, urging me to step backwards. Taking slow, menacing steps, she forces me back until I'm pressed up agaisnt the wall by the kitchen table. "Do not lie to me," she whispers, her hot breath blowing across my face. "I'll ask again. Did. You. Sigh?"_

_"I-I..." I stutter, struggling to find my words. And then, it's like a floodgate is opened. All the words come rushing out at once. "I d-did sigh but not at you. I only sighed because the cleaning has tired me. But I promise I d-didn't sigh at you. I would n-never. That would be rude. I see why you'd think that, though, so if it appeared that way then I-I'm sorry. I really am... so... sorry." I trail off when I see the anger in her eyes ignite further at my words, though for the life of me I can't fathom why._

_She's silent and still for a second before her hand releases my arm. "What did you just say?" Her voice is quiet, and I don't know how to interpret it._

_"I said I did sigh but n-not at you," I repeat. She shakes her head._

_"No. Not that part. At the end of your _pathetic_ plea of innocence, what did you say?"_

_I gulp once more as I think back over my words. _Uh-oh. "_I s-said I'm s-sorry?" She inhales sharply, her eyes wideneing a fraction. I'm so focused on her face that I don't see her raise her arm until it's too late._

_"I' _HIT _"Don't" _HIT _"Want" _HIT _To" _HIT_ "Hear" _HIT_ "Sorry!" _HIT._ With every word she pounds her fist into the top of my left arm. I cower into the table beside me as much as I can, having no place to go because she backed me into a wall. Her breathing is the heaviest it has ever been when she pulls away, opening and closing the hand she used to beat my arm._

_My tears fall like a monsoon from my eyes, my sobs aching in my chest, but not as much as the ache in my left arm. It hangs at my side limply, immovable._

_Ignoring my cries, which I am trying - in vain - to subdue, Renee says, "Now, I want my bottle of wine brought to me _without_ the sighs or any other rude gestures, comments or remarks you have for me. Understood?"_

_I nod silently, my eyes trained on the floor. I don't look up as she turns away, walking out of the room. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hoping to force the last few tears out. After some moments I give to myself in attempt to calm down, I go about doing as Renee asked. I fetch her a bottle of wine and a glass, trying hard to ignore the agonising throbbing pain in the top of my left arm._

_When I take the wine and empty glass to her, I hide the consuming feeling of my heart breaking in two when I am greeted with her loud laughter as she speaks to one of her friends on her phone, acting like she didn't just pound her daughter's arm in a fit of rage because I merely apologised for sighing._

_With no acknowledgement from her but a lazy wave of the hand in dismissal, I leave to put a cold compress to my bright red and slightly swollen left arm for a while, taking the time do some homework - _thank God I'm right handed_ \- before braving through the pain to do my Sunday chores._

**_End of Flashback_**

My chores were almost impossible to do yesterday with my arm in such a state, but I managed. _Somehow_. Sunday is laundry day, so I had a lot of lifting clothes, towels, etc, into the washing machine and out of the washing machine and then into the dryer and out of the dryer. By the end of it all, my arm was so sore I could barely move it. I took something to ease the pain, strapped an ice pack to my arm and forced myself through the process of making Renee dinner and then, afterwards, cleaned the kitchen. I went to bed early and slept through the night, only waking once or twice when I'd subconsciously rolled over to my left side, onto my newly injured arm, and caused myself more pain.

I slowly sit up, rubbing at my heavy eyes with my right hand. My left lies motionless in my lap. I'm too scared to move that arm at all after feeling the pain simply turning my alarm clock off put me in... _and I have to make it through a day of school. Great!_

I sigh as I push the covers off of me and turn to place my feet on the cold hard floor. I take a sip of water from the glass I brought up to bed with me last night, before stretching across my body with my right arm to open the drawer of the nightstand that's to my left.

I smile involuntarily when I wrap my hands around the two items sitting at the top of the drawer on a pile of bookmarks. I pull them out, instantly feeling relaxed when the familiar feeling of cold metal touches my skin.

I'm not your average sixteen-year-old girl. I'm not into the whole face full of make-up, hair highlighted and styled this way and that. I don't care about the latest fashion and what the Kardashians are wearing this week or whatever. And I'm not bothered about wearing much jewelery either. Sure, I have my ears pierced, but I only wear anything in them every now and then. I don't wear bracelets or rings. And I sure as hell don't have my nose pierced, or my belly button.

I do, however, wear two specific necklaces. I wear the same two everyday. I don't put them on to add to an outfit, or for people to see. In fact, I keep them hidden under the clothes I wear, with only the tops of the chains showing if my clothes don't cover them completely. I almost always have them on - the only times I'm without them is when I sleep and when I bathe.

One is a heart shaped locket, holding dearly cherished photos inside. It has a chain that allows the locket to fall a few inches below my collar bone. It is never my intention to hide _this_ necklace from the world. Some days, depending on what I wear, it is on display, and I don't mind that.

The other, however, needs to remain unseen, which is why it's chain is much longer. Hanging on the chain is a key. It sits agaisnt my sternum, meaning that it is always hidden. It _has_ to be this way. No one can see the key. Though, the only person I'm really worried about seeing it is Renee. She would ask questions... and she'd see right through the lies that I'd _have _to tell.

The chain with the key is long enough that I can put it on without unclasping it. Unfortunately, the locket has to be unclasped for me to put it on. I grit my teeth and lift my arms to fasten it at the back of my neck, clenching my eyes tightly when the pain attacks my arm. I had to go through the same ordeal before bed last night, when taking the locket off for the night. As the intense pain radiates through my arm, I really wish I'd just left them on last night to sleep in.

I place both necklaces under the t-shirt I wore to bed, more out of habit than necessity, and stand. I move to my window, and sigh in relief when I see that Renee has already left. Her car has gone from the driveway. We _do_ have a garage, but my dad's blue 1964 Chevy pick-up truck occupies that. Ever since he d... since then, my mother hasn't removed it from the garage, not that I want her to. He always promised it to me when I'm eventually able to drive. I can only hope that my mother allows him to keep his promise, and let's me have it once I get my license.

Renee doesn't expect breakfast to be made for her on weekdays - thank God! She is usually gone before I wake up, seeing as she has to drive to Port Angeles, the nearest city to Forks, where she works as a receptionist at a law firm.

Knowing that she's not here, I feel safe to do the thing I do every time I get physically hurt by her. There is no way I'd do it with her in the house. _Too risky!_

To the left of my window, which gives me an obstructed view of our street (thanks to a large tree planted directly outside it), are my bookshelves. Underneath them is a large dark Jacobean wooden chest, with an antique style padlock. _This_ is what the key that hangs around my neck is for.

I drop to my knees in front of the chest, and after removing the key from around my neck, I unlock it. I struggle to lift the heavy lid with just my right arm - though this isn't the first time I've had to do so - but I manage in the end.

This chest has been in my possession for most of my life. My parents bought it for me when I was an infant, to be used as a toy chest. As I grew out of those toys, they let me keep it, telling me to use it for whatever I want. It's always had a padlock, and it's always had a key. When I started hiding _certain items_ inside of it, I locked it up and told my mother that I'd lost the key (when really I'd hidden it in one of the boxes underneath my bed-the ones I store Nana Swan's journals in-for the time being, knowing she'd never need to go into them). I earned a bruise to the back of my thighs for that lie, but I accepted it with surprising ease, knowing that she'd believed me.

Locked safely inside, with only me knowledgeable of them, are my most treasured and important belongings.

Stacked in the left side of the chest is my completed journals, ones that I've filled over the years. Some, the ones from eight or nine years ago, show their age and abuse with their curled edges and slightly discoloured pages from times I'd devastatingly spilt some kind of liquid or food on them.

One of my dad's old jerseys, along with a pile of photographs I've been meaning to put into an official album, are close to the journals. The photos are of a happier time; when my father was still here and my mother was... well when she was _my_ mother; the woman I try desperately to remember.

Some of the money I earn from my part-time job is also stored in this chest. I don't keep all I earn from my job in here, otherwise I'd have none that was quickly accessible. I take a small amount out of my monthly payments and stash it away, slowly accumulating a larger amount. It's in a small blue cash box.

I initially sought out my job at _Forks' Bookstore_ when I saw an ad on YouTube one evening before bed while I was having a little rest after doing my chores. The ad caught my attention immediately. It was for a special phone accessory, one that has become rather handy over the last few years.

You see, the weeks leading up to the night I saw the ad, I had been contemplating ways to cover my back, so to speak. I'd had a bad few weeks with my mother. She'd lashed out at me for no particular reason several times, and I was sporting more bruises on my body than I ever had at one time. I was becoming fed up with doing _nothing _about it, so, when I saw this ad, I thought it was the perfect thing for me. Feeling fearful every second I stood in front of her, I asked Renee if I could get a job. I was thirteen then, and a few people at school in my class had gotten part-time jobs to earn some cash for themselves.

She didn't like the idea at first, but once she realised it meant she no longer had to buy me clothes as I grew out of them or books I wanted (things I hadn't considered before asking her of this), she agreed almost too eagerly. I spent the following week thinking about where in Forks I could go to, and my mind only settled on one place - _Forks' Bookstore._

_Main Street_ sits in the very center of Forks. All the small local businesses - a grocers, a post office, a candy store, a charity shop, a diner, a pub, a video store, a barbers/hair salon and a few more line _Main Street_ on either side of the road. _Forks' Bookstore _is amongst these few businesses.

It's owned and run by Angela Weber, the thirty-two year old daughter of the pastor at Forks' Church, Frank Weber. Angela used the large sum of money she recieved in the will of her late grandfather, when she was twenty-four, to open up the bookstore. The store opened up when I was eight years old, and it was a place I visited as often as I was allowed. My father used to take me weekly, to browse the books and add some to my ever-expanding "to be read" list, and every two weeks (sometimes three, depending on the weight of his wallet) he bought me a book to add to my shelves - the odd time he bought me two.

After he passed, the regular visits became less regular, and once my chores were introduced the visits almost ceased to exist completely. After that, I only went to the store when I had the chance - on days it was raining and I couldn't go to my meadow, for example.

Angela had worked on her own in the store since its opening, so I was apprehensive about my asking for a job actually being accepted. But to my joyous surprise, Angela took me on immediately. My hours have always been the same - one hour after school on Mondays and Fridays, two hours after school on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, and a few hours the odd Sunday she needs me. These are hours I agreed on, as did my mother once I'd moved my chore schedule around a bit to fit it all in. The store gets a good stream of customers, probably because it's the only place to buy books (except for the second-hand ones at the charity shop) in our little town, so Angela doesn't pay me too bad. That, and I'm her only employee.

It took me a few weeks to save up enough money to buy the special phone accessory I'd seen on the ad, as well as the add-ons it would need. I had my purchases delivered to the house with no worries of my mother finding out about it because I was the one that had to check the mail box every day. It arrived just over a month after I got my job.

It's a polaroid phone case, made by a company called Prynt. It attaches to a smart phone like any other phone case, but it prints out photos taken with the device instantly, like a polaroid camera. Luckily for me, Renee had bought me a smart phone when my chores began and my curfew was officially introduced, so she could keep tabs on me and could easily get in touch with me whenever she needed to.

Once the phone case arrived, along with the pack of print sheet refills I'd bought for when the ones originally provided with the case ran out, I decided to stick with my job. I'd need some way to pay for more refills once I ran out of print sheets, and besides, I like my job. It involves one of my favourite things in the whole world: books!

I use the polaroid phone case to document the injuries I recieve from Renee. After gaining a bruise or a scratch or some other visible mark, I wait until it's completely safe, until she is out of the house, and then I take a picture of that injury. The phone case is brilliant because it prints the photo immediately, and I can delete the evidence from my phone's gallery so Renee never finds out. I store all of the printed photos of my injuries and punishments from over the years in shoeboxes, which sit at the back of the locked chest in my room.

I keep the phone case in the chest, too, hidden away. A standard digital camera I bought from the charity shop here in Forks also lives in this chest. I bought it after my mother confiscated my phone a few months after I bought the polaroid case. Without my cell phone, that case was useless. I had no way during the two days I went without my phone to take photographic evidence of the black and blue ribs I recieved. I took photos of them once my phone was returned to me, but by then the initial painful looking bruising had died down some. The digital camera is merely there as a back up, just in case my phone is confiscated again and I can't use the polaroid phone case.

Logging my injuries and punishments has become part of my routine. As soon as the coast is clear - which is usually when Renee is out of the house, or I am _absolutely certain_ she won't be entering my room - I come to this chest under my bookshelves, unlock it, and do the following:

**1\. I take a photo using my phone and the polaroid phone case of my newly acquired injury.**

**2\. Once the photo has printed, I turn it over and on the back, using one of the many ballpoint pens I keep a stock of in the chest, I write the date the photo was taken, the date the punishment happened, and the location of that injury on my body.**

**3\. In one of my log books, which I also keep in the chest, I document what happened for me to recieve the injury pictured in more detail. For each entry in the log books, I start by writing the date the entry is being written. Underneath that, I write the date I recieved the injury, as well as where and what it is exactly. I then write a summary of how I came to get that injury.**

The log books are simple notepads I buy for cheap from the local post office on _Main Street_. They aren't the fancy, more expensive, notebooks I use for my journalling. The log books are kept on the far right side of the chest, as far from my journals as possible. My journals represent something that I love to do, while the log books represent something I hate doing. They have to be kept as far apart as the storage chest allows, for my peace of mind if nothing else.

I don't want to be doing this: the logging. I hate it. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why I follow these steps, why I go through the torture and misery of reliving the abuse from my mother. It's not like I plan to tell anyone about what I endure at home. It's not as if I'm going to show anyone the evidence I keep locked away in the Jacobean wooden chest in the corner of my bedroom.

I'm a Sophomore in High School. I only have two and a bit more years of this left. I only have to endure it all for that much longer. I've managed the past five and half years, so what's a little over two more going to matter?

That's it. Just two and a bit years to go and then I can leave for college. I can get away from this town, from this house... and from my mother.

That is my ultimate goal - to _leave_!

Though I'm sure I'll return sometime... maybe. My meadow would be the only thing to entice me back here. That and the connection to my father and grandparents that this town holds.

Sometimes I think that doing all of this - the taking pictures, the logging - is a waste of time. Who else will ever know about it?

But then I think about the possibility of Renee taking her punishments too far one day. One day, her anger may pique beyond redemption, and she may seriously harm me - more so than she does already. One day she may take things to another level, and I may have no choice but to confide in someone.

But for now, and hopefully forever, the evidence is just a back up. I'll never use it. I don't think Renee will take things _that _far. She's already harsh enough with me... and she has her reasons.

No one else will know about what goes on within the walls of this house unless it is absolutely necessary. No one else can know, unless it's the last possible route for me to go down. No one can ever find out, because then they would find out _why_ I endure what I do. They'd find out Renee's reasons, and I can't let that happen. I can't deal with people knowing that I am the reason... that it was me who caused all of this mess.

That it was me... _I_ caused the death of one of Forks' beloved police officers, Charlie Swan.

The man my mother loved more than anything and anyone.

My father.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

I step out of the bath tub after my shower, grabbing a towel from the rack beside it. I wrap it around myself, using slow movements so I don't cause myself any unnecessary pain. I walk over to the sink, and stand in front of the mirror that's on the cabinet door above it for a second, just looking at my reflection.

I look horrible. My skin is paler than usual. Pale and colourless. My boring brown eyes have dark rings under them, revealing my exhaustion. I don't just look horrible; I look ill. My limp brown hair, which is closer to black right now due to the water, is plastered to my damp skin. I sigh, before beginning my morning ritual of getting ready for school.

My attempt to dry my hair is half-hearted. It takes me much longer than usual, with my arm being this way, but I get it dry enough to be acceptable. It's only slightly damp now. After finishing everything I need to do in the bathroom, I walk past the staircase and to my bedroom, which is at the front of the house.

I go to my closet, which is behind my bedroom door, and pick out my clothes for the day. It doesn't take me long. I'm not one to care about the latest fashion trends. I simply choose the first things I see that are acceptable. It's starting to get warmer now that we're in spring, but I can't wear anything short sleeved without revealing the ugly bruise on my left arm.

I looked at it in the bathroom mirror before I got in the shower. It's a mess. There's a large dark purple blotch on the top of my arm. It covers a majority of the outer side of my arm, due to the repetitive blows Renee gave it. It's tender to touch and aches with every attempt I make to lift my arm. There's no way I can leave it uncovered.

I pull out a long sleeved, blue and green plaid button-down shirt and a pair of black zip pocket leggings. After putting them on, I grab my green Converse high tops and quickly slip them onto my feet, doing a half-ass job of the laces in a rush.

Most of the shoes in my closet are Converse. I have them in many colours, so I'm never without a pair to wear. There are some I rarely wear, the ones that don't go with most clothing that I own. There is one pair that's never even been out of the box. I bought them to simply say, "Yep, I own that colour". On the other hand, the ones I wear the most are starting to show their use. Especially my black pair. The white soles and toe caps aren't exactly white anymore, and they are so scuffed that the marks almost appear to be part of an intended pattern on the shoes.

I don't want to part with any of them, however. I've been collecting Converse shoes since my feet stopped growing almost two years ago. I've acquired a fair amount of pairs and just thinking about throwing any of them away is heartbreaking for me. And besides, seeing the designer-clothed rich kids at school turn their noses up whenever I wear the worn out pairs is priceless. I love their disapproval. Knowing that I get under their skin so much has become the norm for me, and it provides me with a bit of weekly entertainment.

I check the time, cursing when I see I should be leaving any minute now. I rush to the wooden chest of drawers that stand beside my desk, close to my window, and snatch my sorry excuse for a makeup bag off the top. I'd bet most of the girls at school spend at least half an hour on their faces each morning, making sure every blemish is covered with concealer and their eyebrows are perfectly shaped. I, on the other hand, spend a couple of minutes hiding the darkness that shadows my eyes, enough to hide the exhaustion from my appearance. No one asks questions if there are no signs. I also use makeup to hide the dusting of freckles on my nose, which I get from my dad. They used to be considered cute, but I've grown to hate them... and I'm not the only one.

I dig around in the bag, which is more of a pencil case than a makeup bag to be honest, and use the small mirror that stands on top of my drawers to apply the makeup. I shove it all into the bag once I'm done, knocking the small mirror over in the process. I'm rushing around like a mad woman, checking I have everything I need in my school bag, before I race down the stairs. My hand is on the handle of the front door when my stomach growls and I freeze. _Shit._ Breakfast.

I haven't eaten anything since my one slice of burnt, cold pizza on Saturday night. "Shit," I whisper aloud, dropping my bag from my right shoulder before speed walking into the kitchen. I slam cupboard door after cupboard door, knowing I don't have time to make myself anything. Not even a bowl of cereal. I freeze when I find my mother's breakfast bars in one of the top cupboards. They're _hers_. I'm not allowed them, she says.

I start tapping my foot impatiently as I try to come to a decision. There are three left. Maybe she won't notice?

Oh, who am I kidding. It's Renee. She'll definitely notice.

But I have no other options.

With a sigh, I make the decision. One I'll probably regret later. I grab a breakfast bar and briskly walk to the door, pick up my bag and exit the house.

I rush to finish the breakfast bar, wishing I could savour the taste of food for the first time in over twenty-four hours, as I lock up and run down to my bike.

A couple of minutes later, I am leaving my street and on my way to school. The pull and ache in my arm as I hold on to the handlebars is excruciating.

_I can't wait until I can drive._

**A/N: Please _please_ leave a review! Tell me what you think of this so far.**

**Next chapter will be up in a week. It will be a long one and Edward makes his debut! I'm excited for next Monday so I can upload it! This waiting a week thing is going to be torture.**

**Thanks for reading. See in a week!**


	3. Chapter 3: 'Don't come back' (BPOV)

**A/N: Hey! Back again with another chapter!**

**I've had no reviews yet, which is a bit disappointing, but I'm hoping some will start coming in after this chapter. Please, even if its just to say that you're liking my story so far, or _no__t,_ you can leave any thoughts you have on what's happened so far.**

**This chapter is _long_. I hadn't intended for it to be this long when I was writing it, but I didn't feel like it was right to end it at any point before the last sentence that it has. I have been eager to post this one so I'll end this Author's Note by saying that this chapter will introduce the Cullens and Bella's life outside of her home****, and it follows on directly from where the last chapter ended, with Bella heading off to school.**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Three: 'Don't come back' (Bella POV)

_Monday 10 April 2017_

School. Why do we need to go to school? It is somewhere we are forced to spend our days mingling with people we don't even like - in my case anyway. Why can't we all just take online lessons, where we don't have to spend hours in each others company? I'd much rather speak to people in an online chat room when we have to do a group project, instead of being stuck working with people who openly dislike me. It seems so unfair.

High school is the worst. All anyone is bothered about is who is dating who, and did Jessica - the school slut - sleep with the science geek at that party last weekend. It's ridiculous! None of them even care about their educations, which is the whole point of the horrendous place. But, if they were enrolled in an _online_ school, I bet they'd be more enthusiastic about learning. They wouldn't be so caught up in the high school gossip.

School, for me, is a chore. I used to love it, but for the past few years, it's been a hindrance. Something that contributes to the ultimate crap my life is. Honestly, I don't even see the point in putting myself through it. But then I think of college, my ticket out of here, and that's all I need to suck it up and endure the days in hell.

I enter the treacherous building, after locking up my bike at the floor-mounted bike racks. I walk swiftly to my locker, with my head down and my hands gripping the straps of my bag. This is my usual posture when I walk the halls of Forks High. I'm more invisible this way, even though no one bothers to interact with me unless they have to.

When I reach my locker, I see the remnants of Friday's joke. On a frequent basis, someone, or a group of people, will play pranks on me. Usually the damage is done to my belongings; holes cut into my clothes during gym class, garbage tipped on my usual lunch table, twigs shoved in between the spikes of my bike wheels, and something written or stuck to my locker.

Last Friday morning when I arrived, I was welcomed with the word 'FREAK' written on my locker in black paint. This isn't the first time this, or something similar, has happened. And it won't be the last. The word is patchy now, the evidence of a janitors hard work ruining the boldness of the word. It is still visible and readable, just chipped in places. It'll probably be gone in a day or two, and then it won't be long before the next thing happens to me.

I'm used to it. I'm used to the constant pranks and jokes made on my behalf. At first, when it all began, I loathed it. As soon as anything was done to me, I'd run as fast as my legs would carry me, in the opposite direction to any other living soul. If I was singled out in the cafeteria, for example, I'd cry and flee to the toilets.

It was after a few months that I realised my reactions were spurring them all on. It was encouraging them. After I realised this, I did my best to keep my emotions under control, and give no reaction to their behaviour. It was hard at first, but now it's a piece of cake. It's as easy as breathing. I don't even flinch anymore, just roll my eyes and ignore it. I was hoping my indifference would eventually mean the pranks would stop, but they haven't.

I don't go a week without something happening to me here. I must look like an easy target to people - at home and at school.

I grab the books I need from my locker - only using my good arm - before closing it and making my way through the halls to my first class of the day. English is my favourite class, because of my love for books and poetry. My English teacher, Miss. Wilkins, is one of the only pleasant parts about school. There aren't many! She shares my love of literature, which I guess is pretty obvious due to her job. I'd like to teach people about something I love one day, like she does.

I go and sit at the back; my place in every lesson is at the back of the classroom. I feel more invisible if I'm at the back. I feel safe, because no one can surprise me with a paper ball to the back of the head, or a poke to my back with a ruler or a really sharp pencil. It's happened before, and I've learnt my lesson.

I sit quietly as the class waits for Miss. Wilkins to arrive. Everyone talks around me. I zone out, doodling in a spare notebook I carry to each class. It's the best way to pass the time as we wait for the teacher. Something that's needed to know about Forks High School, the teachers are _never_ on time to a lesson. _E__ver!_ Every one of them is late, unless they are staying in the same classroom that they just taught in.

I look up eagerly when I hear heels approaching, assuming Miss. Wilkins is about to enter the room. Instead, the Devil-Duo enters. Jessica Stanley - I mentioned her earlier; the school slut - and Lauren McCarthy. They are practically sewn at the hip. You rarely see one without the other. They've been this way since the 5th Grade, when Jessica moved to town.

They think they're golden girls, perfect in every way. But no, they aren't. They only _think_ they are because they are in Rosalie's click. Rosalie Hale, a Junior here, is the school's most popular girl. She's the Mayor's daughter, which makes her the most desired girl in school. Everyone wants to be her friend, or at the very least, be acknowledged by her. Every girl wants to be her, and every guy wants to be with her. It's that simple.

Sadly for the guys, she's taken. She's been dating Emmett McCarthy, Lauren's older brother, since they were born. It seems that way, at least. His parents are both on the council, and have been close friends with the Mayor and his wife since their childhood. I'm sure if Lauren was two years older, she would have been coupled with Rosalie's older brother, Jasper.

Jasper Hale is a Senior here. He's only got a couple of months left at Forks High, and isn't dating anyone at the moment. That seems like a green light for every girl in school to throw themselves at him. It's kind of sad really. It's like they have no self respect. No dignity. All they care about is being 'the Mayor's son's first official girlfriend'. I get that he's attractive; with his ash blonde hair that uncontrollably falls in front of his piercing icy blue eyes. And he's classed as a bit of a bad boy outside of school - wearing his leather jacket and riding his motorcycle. What girl wouldn't want a piece of him?

..._ I__ can think of one._

Rosalie's click, as I call it, is the _"it"_ group. Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, Lauren, Jessica and Emmett's best friend - Tyler Crowley - are the people to be seen with. It's like something out of crappy high school movie. All six of them sit at the center table in the cafeteria at lunchtime, so everyone can see them. They spend the whole lunch laughing and talking _really _loudly, which is all done to get the attention of the "peasants" around them.

_They sound like a real piece of work, right? _I seriously cannot believe I used to be a part of that group. It sickens me sometimes. You see, I wasn't always this _negative_ towards them. I was blinded by their superiority once upon a time, just like the rest of these losers. I wanted to be in their click, to be seen socialising with the "top dogs" of the school. But I grew smart. I learnt that they aren't all they are made out to be. Unfortunately, I had to learn it the hard way.

Anyway, back to the Devil-Duo... They somehow managed to get matching class schedules, which so happens to be almost identical to mine, _unfortunately._ I'm in every class with Lauren and Jessica except my sixth: sociology. They sit front and center of each class, on purpose no doubt. They have their reasons for choosing that spot, just as I have my reasons for choosing to sit at the back. As long as they are as far away from me as possible, I couldn't give two shits to be perfectly honest.

Miss. Wilkins _finally_ enters the room, and the lesson begins. It's a shame I love this class so much, because it flies by. I feel like as soon as my butt has hit the chair, the bell rings and I've got to leave again. It's _so_ frustrating.

After a lovely, but quick, fifty minutes of English, I leave to go to my next class - Algebra II. I'm shit at maths; all kinds of maths. I hate it. No matter how hard I try, it just doesn't seem to sink in. My teacher, Mr. Montgomery, has suggested a tutor, but I've adamantly refused every time. That would mean another student spending extra time with me, and I can't think of _one_ person that would want to do that. So, I suffer in solitude, struggling through my course. I'll probably fail and have to retake the class. I was lucky last semester; I _j__ust_ passed the mid-term, though I don't know how. Mr. Montgomery was shocked too, but he tried to hide it from me. He's warned me that it's only going to get tougher - _he wasn't lying_.

The rest of the morning goes on as usual. I sit at the back of each class, and I'm ignored, only speaking to the teacher when answering a question. Other then that, I stay silent.

The lunch bell rings after French, and I don't rush to pack up my things and leave. This is the worst part of my day. I find it worse than gym class, _and that's saying something._ I slowly walk to the cafeteria, keeping my head down. I enter and go to the back of the growing line, most likely doing so unnoticed. I keep my eyes to the floor, but can't help listening to the two senior girls in front of me.

"Did you see him on the field earlier? _Damn_, does that boy have stamina," Girl Number One gushes to her friend.

"I know. I bet he's great in bed," Girl Number Two replies, giggling.

"Mmmm. I bet he can keep going for _hours_ and _hours_," Number One says, her voice full of awe, before she bursts into giggles too. I roll my eyes, wishing I had a mute button for their unceasing giggles.

I quickly glance up, just in time to watch them both look over at the center table. _Of course,_ they are talking about one of the guys from that table, and it most definitely won't be Emmett. No one would dare speak about him in such a way, for fear of facing Rosalie Hale's wrath. They are probably speaking about Jasper, who is currently sat rocking on the two rear legs of his chair.

He's doing his normal appraisal of the room. His lunch time ritual is to sit in silence for a majority of the half an hour we have for lunch, and people watch. He's like a king admiring his kingdom, looking out over all his loyal followers.

When his eyes scan over the lunch line, and he notices the two girls in front of me ogling him, he smirks. Then he winks. Jasper is a player. He loves the attention he gets from the girls at this school. You can just tell. He has an arrogant and cocky persona. You can see it in the way he judges the entire student body, and the way he eyes all the female student _bodies_... if you know what I mean.

Both the girls giggle again, and begin talking rapidly, thrilled that he paid them that tiny bit of attention. I keep my eyes on him, watching on in disgust to see if he does it to anyone else. His gaze falls on me, once he's pulled his eyes away from Girl Number One - who happens to have a low cut top on, with her cleavage on show for all to see - and he stops smirking. He sits forward and speaks to the other occupants at his table. I see his lips moving.

Just as I'm about to look away, bored with watching him, all three girls at his table - Rosalie, Lauren and Jessica - turn to look at me. I twist my head away quickly, blushing.

Jasper has hated me ever since I knocked back his attempts to seduce me. I was a fairly scrawny teenager, with the chest of an eleven year old boy and a straight-framed body from head to toe, up until the summer before I turned 15, which was almost two years ago. That summer, puberty decided to make up for its delay and by the time school was starting up again, I had boobs, an ass, and curvy hips to go with it. It didn't help me in the social department. In fact, the change to my body made my school life worse; girls became more catty and the guys obnoxiously rude.

Jasper had always been indifferent toward me during my frienship with his sister and their friends, and equally so even once the rest had turned on me. But after that autum, when he seemed to be on a personal mission to win my affections and all I did was say 'no', he became less indifferent and more hateful. Now, he never misses an opportunity to stir shit up for me.

I keep my eyes down for the rest of my wait in the line, and sigh in relief when I can finally walk away with my food. I leave the room as quickly as I can. _I think I'll eat in the library today, _instead of sitting alone at my usual corner table beside the trashcans. The table is good for me because no one else wants to sit at it, which means I can be alone. But today, I just don't feel like it.

The school librarian, Mrs. Jensen, doesn't mind me eating in here. It's not usually allowed, but she makes an exception for me. I come here quite a few times a week for my lunch. It's peaceful, and away from everyone else.

The school library isn't very big. It's a small room, with a browny-grey coloured carpet and pale yellow painted walls. There are no windows. Three sets of light wood tables and chairs are lined up against the right wall. Two white, round tables are in the center of the room, each circled with four black round seats. Mrs. Jensen's dark wood desk is in the far right corner. Tall bookshelves, made of wood identical to that of Mrs. Jensen's desk, fill the rest of the room on the left side. A large one covers the whole left wall, with horizontal rows of them in front of it. And the remainder of the back wall, next to Mrs. Jensen's desk, is covered by rows of bookshelves, too.

I say a quick "hello" to her, and then make my way to my usual spot; the far left corner of the room. I sit on the floor and lean up against the back wall in between the long wall-length bookshelf, and the one parallel to it. I'm hidden away here, only able to be seen if someone browses these particular shelves, which isn't very often at lunch time.

I eat my lunch silently, basking in the peace. Once I've finished my sandwich and apple, I open my bottle of water and grab a book from the shelf to my right. It's a romance; a Nicholas Sparks book, to be more specific. I'm a sucker for a good romance novel, his especially. I have my own copies of almost all of his books at home, but I use the school ones at lunch. He's one of my favourite romance writers. The first few months of Freshman year, I managed to convince Mrs. Jensen to make this corner the designated 'Romance Section'.

I only get to read six pages before I have to pack up and leave. With a sigh, I walk out of the library, throwing a "goodbye" to Mrs. Jensen on my way out. As always, I keep my head down and walk to my next class.

Just down the corridor from my classroom, I accidently knock into someone. We collide on my left side, our arms coming into contact. I let a little yelp of pain out when my bruised arm is jolted, but I do well to hide it, _I think_. I stop and turn to apologise, lifting my eyes to see who it is.

"I'm s-" As soon as I see who I collided with, my apology falls away.

"Watch where you're fucking going!" Rosalie Hale snarls at me.

"It was an accident. I'm sorry," I say, managing to get my apology out this time.

"Maybe if you were looking forward instead of at those God awful shoes, you wouldn't have walked right into me," she criticizes, her voice strong and authoritative.

"I said I was sorry. It was an accident." My hands fist the hem of my shirt, twisting in the material. Confrontations always make me anxious. And usually jibes at my footwear only ever amuse me, but for some reason her little dig at my Converse just now does the opposite. It angers me.

I clench and relax my hands, repeating the action once more before letting go and raising my chin slightly. I narrow my eyes, and watch, my anxiety building when Rosalie's cold blue eyes narrow back at me in response. I keep my fear hidden behind a mask of confidence. "What was your excuse?" I ask.

"Excuse me?" she asks incredulously, stepping towards me. I want to cower in fear, like I do at home, but here I have a little more flexibility in the way I handle these hostile situations. I can dish out my own comebacks without the fear of punishment.

"You heard me. I admit, I wasn't looking where I was going. But surely if you noticed that, then you'd have seen me?" People gasp and I chance a quick look around to see that a small crowd has formed. My heart is pumping a mile a minute, adrenaline coursing my veins. I fist my hands in the material of my shirt again, to hide their trembling.

"I _was _looking where I was going. And I _did_ see you," she replies, gritting her teeth.

"So, isn't it _you_ who walked into _me_?" I ask, adding a small smirk to my face, though inside I'm rocking back and forth in fear, telling myself to flee now why I have the chance. Another chorus of gasps comes from around us.

Rosalie walks towards me slowly, her tall frame towering over me. The fact that she's around the same height as my mother doesn't really help my nerves. I have to fight every instinct that has been beaten into me the past few years thats telling me to run and protect myself. I stand my ground though, holding my head up high.

"I shouldn't have to step aside for the likes of _you_," she sneers, looking down her nose at me. She leans closer, and whispers so only I can hear. "Don't forget, _Bella_, these are _my _halls. I _own _this school. You're just one tiny little ant in a large colony. A colony that _I_ lead. I have so much influence in this school, that I could bring you down with a mere snap of my fingers. I could make your sad, lonely existence even _more_ of a misery than what it already is. Watch yourself! You're still stuck with me for another year, so _don't _push it."

She pulls away slowly, a menacing smile on her stupidly perfect face. I can't hide my gulp of fear after hearing her threats. I don't say anything further, as I briskly turn and walk away, leaving a cluster of teenagers - teenagers that are all now laughing at my retreating form.

I make it to my desk as quickly as possible, hiding behind my hair. Everyone is in class a couple of minutes later, and as usual, we are left waiting for the teacher - Mr. Phillips. I keep my eyes down, and pick at the chipped wood on the table top.

A large clothing catalog is dumped on my table, narrowly missing my hand. It looks heavy, and makes a loud _THWACK_ sound as it lands. I slowly look up, and am met with the _absolutely delightful _sight of Lauren and Jessica stood in front of me. _Can you sense my sarcasm?_

"We thought you may want this. You know, so you can find a pair of nicer shoes to look at all day than, um, _t__hose_," Lauren says, looking at my shoes under the table in disgust. I sigh and stare at the both of them indifferently, not offering a reply.

_Don't react,_ I tell myself. _Don't encourage them._

"Yeah, I don't know if you'll be able to afford any of these," Jessica adds, stroking the catalog with one hand lovingly. "Probably not. But I'm sure you could start up a charity for people to help fund a new wardrobe for you." She follows that up with a large, fake smile.

_Do not react, Bella._

Lauren gasps, eyes alight as she turns toward Jessica, grabbing her arm. "OMG! Jess, that's actually a _really_ good idea. All she'd have to do is use the 'My daddy's dead. Help me!' excuse and she'd get a shit load of money. The sympathy card works _every_ time."

Her words cause an instant anger to burn inside of me. All I see is red, and before I know it, I'm pushing the catalog off of the table with as much strength as I can muster. It falls, but Lauren doesn't notice this because she's still looking in Jessica's direction, still goading me. It lands with a satisfying _THUMP_ on the floor.

_Oops. I reacted._

"OOOOWW!" Lauren cries out loudly. "YOU _BITCH! _YOU COULD'VE BROKE MY TOE," she screams, grabbing her foot while hopping on the spot. I'd probably laugh at the sight if I wasn't so pissed off.

I stay silent, breathing heavily as I try to take back what little control I have left of my anger. "You're a fucking psycho! Do you know that?" Jessica asks rhetorically, shaking her head at me. "C'mon, Lauren," she says, wrapping her arm around her best friend to help her walk back to their seats. Neither of them pick up the catalog.

The astonished chatter of my other classmates is still loud as the devil-duo walk away. I hear the odd word or phrase: "freak", "needs help", "fucking lunatic".

_Yep. That's me_.

I sigh, lowering my head again, choosing to ignore it all. I shake my head to make my hair fall around my face. My eyes sting with held back tears. I can handle _a lot _from these people, but comments about my dad affect me more than anything.

I know, as soon as I step out of that class, that everyone has heard about my interaction with Rosalie in the halls earlier. Every movement I make is judged. Every word I speak is scrutinized. Hateful words are spat at me in the halls as I walk to Sociology, and I know it'll only get worse once word gets round about my "violent act" against Lauren.

On my way to Gym class, an hour later, I'm proven right.

Gym is a nightmare. From the moment it begins, to the second I exit the changing rooms afterwards. I change in the corner of the room, trying my best to hide my bruised arm. I must look like I'm trying to crawl into the walls, with my left side practically pressed up against it as I change my top.

Luckily, we don't just have one option of kit for gym. I don't have to come up with an excuse to sit out, or ditch class completely, to avoid wearing a t-shirt that will reveal my bruised arm. The kit comes with an alternative: a sweatshirt. I am overly warm the whole class, but I have to wear it.

Today, it seems luck isn't in my favour. We just so happen to be playing dodgeball. It is torture. Not just because it hurts to throw the ball, but because Lauren (who's foot is perfectly fine, by the way) and Jessica make it their personal mission to hit me with every ball they throw. And they seem to rally others into their master plan, too. Either that, or others just liked the idea of targeting me. By the end of the class, my body aches _everywhere_. My chest feels like my mom has used me as a punching bag from the endless force of the balls hitting me, and my arm is immovable. _Thank goodness this is the last mandatory year of Gym._

The pain is so bad that I have to push my bike to work instead of ride it. Angela let's me lock it up in the alleyway behind the bookstore. After almost an hour of shelving the new stock of books that came in over the weekend, my arm feels like a dead weight. I think Angela can sense I'm ready to go home, because she let's me go fifteen minutes early. For that, I'm thankful.

I walk at a slower pace than usual, thanks to my spare time. All I want to do once I'm home is fall into my bed and sleep the night away, but I can't. I have work to do. Once I'm home, I do all the chores I have to, which is clean the kitchen more thoroughly than my quick once over after dinner each night, and then I start making our dinner. My arm throbs, so I choose to make something quick and easy.

My heart rate picks up when I hear Renee's car pull into our driveway.

_Please let tonight be peaceful!_

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Sunday 16 April 2017_

_A heart… A man walking a rabbit… A witch on a broomstick._

I've been cloud-watching for the last half an hour or so. It's amazing what the mind can identify from a visible mass of condensed water vapour, floating in the sky. I'll admit, what I pick out isn't very creative, but I'm too relaxed to really care.

I close my eyes as the wonderful, relieving breeze blows across my body. For an April day, it's too hot. In Forks, this isn't normal, especially for this time of year. It rains most of the year here, and it's _never_ this hot before mid-June _at least. _For someone who hasn't lived here their whole life, this is most likely chilly. For someone who is used to hot weather on a regular basis, this is probably a tad on the cold side. But to me, this is like a lovely Summer's day.

I'm led on my back in my meadow, on a blanket I brought with me. The sun is heating my pale skin. A lot of my skin is on show today, which isn't a common thing for me. I don't know if it's obvious, but my choice of clothing for school is a little on the grungy side.

I'll be honest, most days I dress in clothes that you wouldn't catch most teenage girls dead in: baggy flannel plaid shirts and sweatshirts, dark colours and absolutely no accessories - besides my two necklaces that I almost never take off. And I am _never_ without a pair of high tops.

However, when I'm sure that I won't be seen by any other living soul, other than my mother, I don't mind dressing more suitable to my gender and age. I'm in a pair of white shorts, and a burgundy cropped t-shirt that's twisted at the front. The bruise on my arm is on show, a risk I'm taking because I feel pretty sure that I won't be seen by anyone today. I'll just take the long way home instead of cutting through the town center.

I have a beige cardigan with me, but I took it off as soon as I arrived in my meadow, just as I did with my white Converse high tops. _See? _Beige and white... I _do_ wear bright coloured clothes. I'm not a _complete _emo, like everyone in this town thinks I am.

I keep my eyes closed and enjoy the peace, thinking back on the last week. I didn't gain anymore bruises inflicted by my mother, which is a positive I guess. Though I'm not surprised about that; there's normally a cool off period after every physical punishment I receive. It's not long, but it's relieving for me. This doesn't mean that I can let my guard down, however. I still have to do all my chores perfectly, and keep out of my mother's way.

She's been a bit distracted this week; she hasn't scrutinized every little thing I do. Something about a new boss at work taking over on Monday. _Thank you, new boss!_

So all in all, my life with Renee for the past week has been _good_ \- or as good as it can get when I have to walk on eggshells around my own mother.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same for my life _outside _of my prison-sorry, I mean _house._ After the events at school on Monday, the catalog incident with Lauren mainly, my week at school has been a little bit of a nightmare. My class_mates_ seemed determined to make me remember my angry outburst for the rest of the week.

Every day, when I opened my locker, a bunch of loose catalog pages would fall out. Thursday morning there were too many for me to pick up, so I left them on the ground and went to English. The other days, I spent time picking them up to put them in the trash, much to everyone's amusement. I just kept my head down and carried on with my days as if nothing happened.

In addition to this, Lauren limped whenever I was near her, casting me evil glares as she went. And people have taken to calling me out on my, and I quote, _"psychotic behaviour"._

I don't care though. I've learnt not to take it all to heart. I'm just glad I have this place. My meadow is the only place in the whole world that makes me feel safe and happy. No one can judge me here. No one can hit me here. And to my knowledge, no one even comes here. It's _mine_.

Work for this week has been alright, too. I'm glad I wasn't called in today, however. I needed this Sunday off. I needed this time here, in my meadow. I haven't managed to get away long enough to come here and relax at any point this week. I didn't want a repeat of last Saturday, when I lost track of time and was late home meaning my mother had to cook, so I didn't take the chance of coming here yesterday.

Soon, I won't have to worry about being late home again. I am _so _close to being able to drive. I won't need my stupid bike anymore, so I won't have to leave my meadow until about twenty minutes before I need to be home. _I can't wait!_

I worry, though. I don't have the money to get a car, and my mom definitely won't help me out with that. My dad had promised me his 1964 blue Chevy pick-up truck that's still in our garage. He promised that he'd teach me how to drive it and show me all the ins and outs of his third love - my mom and me being in joint first and second place. _He sure did love that truck!_ I can only hope that my mother lets my dad keep half of his promise to me. He couldn't be the one to show me how to drive, but I can still have his truck, just as he promised.

I clear my throat to try and rid it of the lump that slowly begins appearing as I think of my father. I open my eyes and blink away the tears, only just realising that I'm gripping my locket in my right hand like it's a life line. I slowly open my hand and see that the heart shape has imprinted onto my palm.

It is a rounded heart shape locket, with an ornate clasp that opens out to reveal four pictures. The locket part is made of solid brass, and the chain and clasp are made of gold plated brass. Inside, I have a photo of my dad in his police uniform, a photo of my grandparents (Grandad ChaCha and Nana Swan), a photo of my dad in his arm chair with my five year old self sat on his knee, and a photo of me, my dad and Renee taken a year before he passed. We are all happy and smiling in that photo; we are a family.

I was given the locket necklace by my grandmother shortly after my father died. She told me that my dad bought it her for Mother's Day when he was twelve years old, and she wanted me to have it now. Unfortunately, Nana Swan passed away seven months after my dad did. My mom didn't like the fact that Nana Swan gave me something so special. I wouldn't know this if I hadn't overheard them both arguing about it a week after I was given it.

Thinking of my mother makes me feel anxious, and I reach out blindly to pick up my phone. I sigh when I read the time. I need to get home and finish off my Sunday chores. I've already done some laundry and started the cleaning I need to do today. I need to finish some of it still though, as well as make dinner and do some homework.

I reluctantly get up, packing away my phone, book, journal and blanket. I slip my shoes and cardigan on, hiding my bruise - _it's better to be safe than sorry._ I begin walking along the trail, moving away from my meadow. I always feel empty when I leave it. I hate that I can't just live in it, or better yet, live in the gorgeous house at the other side of this trail.

As I get closer to the opening, I start to dread my ride home. Riding my bike has not been easy with the state of my arm. It is still tender, but it's no longer as dark. The bruise is still very noticeable, but it's a horrible yellow-brown now, with green edges. My arm looks mouldy, to put it bluntly.

I step out of the trail and as I always do, look up at the glorious house. However, when I do so this time, what I see causes my heart to plummet to the ground. Two expensive looking cars are parking up outside of the garage. I stand frozen, watching as four people exit the cars; three from one, and one from the other.

_What the fuck?_

I continue watching them from the tree line as they stand in front of the house and look up at it. _Shit! _I don't know what to do. I know what I _should_ do.

I _should_ hop on my bike and slip away stealthily, but I am rooted into place. All my mind can focus on is the fact that these people are going to move in. They are going to stop me from visiting my meadow. They are going to ruin my life.

_Hang on a sec… _I'm just jumping to conclusions here. These people may not be moving in. They could be friends with the owner - if there is one - and just be here for a holiday. _Yeah!_ That's it. I'm sure they are only here temporarily.

The low rumble of an engine catches my attention. I look down the road that leads in, and all hope of these people being a temporary obstacle is crushed. A humungous moving van is driving closer and closer. How the hell did that monster of a van even turn onto this road? I can feel my heart picking up speed and my breathing slowly turning into pants.

_Shit!_ They're moving in.

_Fuck my life! _Why? Why do this to me, Lord? Please explain!

I'm not religious by any means, but if I was, the events of the past five years would've abolished any beliefs I had - all starting with the death of my dad. Since then, it's been one bad thing after another. Since then, life has just been this complete shit storm that won't pass. I feel like I'm the Titanic; I hit the iceberg and now I'm just sinking and sinking into the ocean. But unlike the Titanic, I don't land on an ocean bed. I just continue to sink, further and further, the ocean an infinite mass of doom. There's no end to my suffering.

"Young lady, can we help you?" I startle at a woman's voice and quickly turn to look at the four newcomers, all of whom are now staring at me. _Shit! I've been spotted._

There are two men and two women. They look to be a family. I can't see them in too much detail from their position way over by the garage, but I can see that they seem to be parents and two teenagers, both possibly around my age.

I don't know what to do. I contemplate turning on my heel and running back to my meadow, to my sanctuary, but I don't. I stay still and shake my head slowly in response to her question. The older woman begins walking towards me, the other three people following closely behind. _Shit!_

"Are you lost?" the lady asks. They are all getting closer and my only thought now is to get away. I begin stepping sideways, gradually nearing my bike, while shaking my head at her question again.

"Well then, this is private property and you are trespassing," she says, her tone slightly hostile. _Double shit!_ I freeze, mouth gaping. My heart is pounding in my chest. I try to say something, but no words leave my mouth.

"Can you talk?" the other lady asks, her tone sarcastic. She's younger than the first woman that spoke. And, _oh my..._ she's very small. I thought I was short at 5 foot 3, but she can't be even 5 foot. She's so tiny, like a little pixie.

_An evil pixie_, I correct myself mentally as I notice her hateful glare, aimed at me. _Woah_.

I look down at my shoes, a natural instinct of mine, scuffing them against the gravel. I don't dare look up at the people again, fearful of the glares I'm receiving. I turn and slowly walk to my bike, trying my best to put my bag on my back without showing any pain in my movements. Inside, however, I'm cursing all my pain receptors. _Ow!_

"Excuse me! My wife and daughter have both spoken to you and you have rudely ignored them. You'll do well to acknowledge their questions," one of the men demand. I stop mid-reach for the handlebars and turn to face the family. I'm guessing the older one spoke, given he said "_wife and daughter"._ He is now stood a little in front of the rest of his family, like he's guarding them.

From who... _me?_

The man that just spoke has neat blonde hair, which neither of his children inherited. The other guy, the younger one, has a weird combination of hair colour. I can't even explain it. It's just a mess of reds and browns. Like a bronze, or copper. His mom, *_at least I assume she's his mom_, has darker hair - almost black - which is where the daughter must have gotten it from. Her jet black spiky pixie cut is just a tad darker than the older woman's colouring.

The blonde man clears his throat and begins tapping his foot. I snap out of my assessment of their hair colours, blushing all shades of red. I must've looked so stupid. _Pull yourself together, Bella!_

"I'm sorry," I say in a little voice. I sound like Lily from _Pitch Perfect_. You know... the one that beat boxes but can never be heard when speaking? _Fan-fucking-tastic!_

The older pair both raise an eyebrow, while the pixie tuts and spins on her heel, strutting over to the men parking and exiting the larger than large moving van. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone lived here. I-I'll leave now," I confess hurriedly, but louder this time.

"Good. And don't come back," warns the woman, who then grabs her husband's hand as they both walk away, in the same direction as their daughter. I don't bother making eye contact with the silent, copper haired dude. I just rush to get on my bike and get the hell out of here.

As I cycle away, I can't stop the tears from falling. _"And don't come back".._. That's what she said.

I can't come back here. And that means...

I can't come back to my meadow.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Monday 17 April 2017_

The next morning, I wake with a start.

All night I had horrible dreams. In them, my meadow wasn't beautiful and full of life like it's supposed to be. Instead it was filled with lava. The trees were stripped of all their leaves. The trunks and branches were burnt and black, twisted in the most grotesque ways. The flowers that once stemmed from the ground floated around me, loose and shrivelled, crisp and blackened. Everything was ruined; my meadow was full of death and decay.

No matter how many times I woke, every time I tried to go back to sleep I'd picture the same thing. Over and over again.

It's all because of that family. They've stolen the one place that gives me comfort in life. They've taken the one thing that gives me sanity in this fucked up world. I hate them... which is harsh because I don't really know them. I don't use the word 'hate' lightly. Especially not in regards to another person. I don't even hate my mother, and Lord knows I have enough reasons to.

But, that family... I _hate_ them.

Why did they have to move here? Who would want to move here anyway? It's a small town, surrounded by thousands of trees, and miles away from any major retailers. There's Main Street in the center of town that has locally owned businesses, shops and boutiques. But there's no large shopping center, or any fancy restaurants. There isn't even a fast food place.

Why would they want to live somewhere so small and insignificant. _Why?_

I sigh as I enter the kitchen, coming to a halt when I see my mother stood by the sink, drinking a coffee. I didn't bother to check our driveway to see if she was still here. She's dressed for work, in an outfit that looks like it costs more than the contents of my entire wardrobe as a whole.

"Good morning," she greets warmly, her smile catching me off guard.

"Eerm... g-good morning," I answer hesitantly. I don't think I can remember the last time she wished me a good morning. I can't even remember the last time she spoke to me in such a happy voice.

"How did you sleep?" she asks, looking at me expectantly. I shuffle over to the fridge, pulling out the orange juice.

"Like shit," I answer in a monotone voice. Yesterday's events, added to my virtually sleepless night has put me in a foul mood. I'm only answering truthfully.

"Excuse me?" Renee asks. I stop what I'm doing and turn to my mother. She has an eyebrow raised and her smile has disappeared. Crap!

"Um... I meant my night wasn't very good. I, um... I didn't sleep well," I answer quietly, lowering my eyes to the floor. She's silent for a few seconds, but then clears her throat. I raise my eyes to hers again, and see she still has an eyebrow arched, like she's waiting for something. "S-sorry?" I guess. I'm unsure of what she's waiting for, so it comes out as a question.

"I should think so," she says, sipping from her cup slowly. _Um... okay?_ I'm so confused. A week ago she told me to stop apologising to her, and now it's what she expects? I turn back to my task, shaking my head as I pour some juice into a glass. I sigh quietly, too quietly for Renee to catch, before placing the glass on the breakfast table.

I keep my eyes averted from Renee as I pass her to get to the bowls and cereal. We both stay silent as I make myself a bowl, before sitting down at the table. I'm used to silence whenever we are in the same room. Renee doesn't like small talk much anymore. She prefers I do what I have to do, and leave her alone. This is the reason I'm shocked when she comes over to the the breakfast table and sits in the chair opposite me.

"What is wrong with you this morning?" she asks. I can feel her eyes piercing the top of my head, but I continue staring down at my bowl. "Isabella, do not ignore me," she demands.

I hold back my sigh as I slowly lift my head. She's looking at me with a raised eyebrow again. "Why are you in such a horrible mood?" she asks sharply. I can hear her high-heel clad foot tapping the floor underneath the table.

"I just didn't sleep well, that's all," I say, my voice small. I stir my cereal around the bowl with the spoon slowly.

"Well I'm sorry you didn't have a good night's sleep, but there's no need to take it out on me. What have I done to you to deserve this?"

Unthinking, I raise my right hand to touch the nasty bruising on the top of my left arm. I don't even consider my actions, I just do it. She watches the movement of my hand, and her eyes narrow slightly when she realises where it is going. Her gaze flashes back to mine and the once light look on her face has vanished, replaced with pure anger.

"That's not fair! You know I had a drink last weekend," she says, mock hurt in her voice.

_That's it, Renee. Blame it on the alcohol, like you always do. _It's her go-to excuse.

"And besides," she says as she pushes out from under the table in one fluent and forceful movement, "I've apologised for that."

_No. You haven't._

She likes to _think_ she apologises to me, but she doesn't. She has only ever apologised once; after the first time she hit me. It took her three hours to come to me and say sorry, but even then, I knew it was forced.

"You know... you can be such a selfish _bitch_ sometimes, Isabella," she snarls, practically spitting the words at me. I flinch and look down involuntarily. It's my bodies response to her harsh behaviour towards me. I can't control it.

She stands from the table. Her actions are so strong that the untouched orange juice spills over the rim of the glass slightly. She begins pacing, and I know one of two things is about to happen. Either she'll begin ranting and cursing at me. Or, she'll physically attack me.

Luckily for me, she chooses the former.

"Why did you have to do this today?" she begins, calmer than I expected and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Her voice is quiet, and she's slowly walking back and forth beside the table. She takes a deep breath in before continuing. "I was in such a good mood. My new boss is starting today. I was hoping to impress her so she wouldn't hate me like the last _douche_ I had as a boss did. I was ready to face the day with a smile." Her voice slowly begins rising in volume. I can't help but lower my head further to the table. My fear is showing, but right now she's unpredictable and I don't care how I look.

Her voice suddenly changes all together. She turns sharply on her heel and points at me. Her next words are hissed at me. Hatred fuels her outburst. "But _you_... you had to ruin my good mood by reminding me of my mistake. My _one _mistake! _God_, Isabella! Nobody's perfect! I make mistakes just like everybody else!" She's shouting at me now. Almost screaming.

One? Did she just say _one_ mistake? _Is she delusional?_

Even with the volume of her voice and the harsh tone she is directing at me, I think she's admitting to her _mistake_, as she put it, for _once_. But, as I should expect, I'm not so lucky. The blame is quickly pinned on me. _Typical._

"Maybe I wouldn't make mistakes if _you_ just behaved. Maybe then I wouldn't have to teach you a lesson. _Ugh. _I mean, is it so hard to listen to what I say? You have ears, don't you?! Use them to do what God gave you them for. _Listen_!" She over-pronounces the word, exaggerating every letter and syllable as she tugs on the lobe of her right ear. "Maybe then I wouldn't need to do _this_!"

She suddenly grabs the top of my left arm in her hand tightly. I cry out and try to pull it from her grasp, but she's too strong for me. She squeezes harder, before pulling me towards her. Our noses are almost touching, and even though I want to look away, I can't. Her acid filled eyes burn into mine. They've locked me into place, and I'm too afraid to turn away.

"You don't learn, Isabella. You never do. I don't know why I bother. I don't know why I put up with your shit. It's never ending. I should just leave this wretched town and the worthless people that live here. I should leave _you_," she whispers icily, staring deeply into my eyes the entire time. I gulp and try to hold back my tears. _I'm worthless to her._

She finally let's go of my arm, and stands up straight, smoothing out her charcoal grey pencil skirt. "I'm going to work! Clean my cup before you leave. I want you back here straight after school. Call Angela and tell her you won't be going into work this afternoon. You are not to leave this house for the rest of the evening, once you return. That'll teach you to not repeat a stunt like the one you just pulled," she tells me, and with that she turns and marches out of the room.

I remain frozen in my seat for the next few minutes. Even when I hear the front door open and close, I still stay sat like a statue, in the exact position she left me in. It's only once I hear her car driving away that I move. I suck in a sharp intake of air and let the few tears that were threatening to fall do just that; fall. I cradle my left arm to my body, and inspect the damage. Fresh, red marks wrap around my arm, the shape of my mother's fingers easy to distinguish in the mess of colour. The darkness of the bruise will probably return after what just happened. I let myself cry it out for a couple of minutes, before I pull myself together.

_Why did I do that? Why didn't I just pretend to be in high spirits until she left?_ _What is wrong with me?_

No! _Nothing is wrong with me,_ I tell myself. I can't think like that. She cannot expect me to be all happy and smiling whenever she is. She puts me in bad moods all the time. She can't pretend to be happy for my sake, so why should I? I'm only returning the favour.

_But life would be so much easier if I kept my emotions hidden. Then she wouldn't be encouraged to continue her attacks, just like the kids at school. Then she wouldn't have a reason to hit and punish me._

No! _She'll always find a reason, _I think to myself. It's true!

She. Will. Always. Find. A. Reason.

There's always something I've done wrong. There's always something that she believes requires a punishment.

I've lost my appetite now, so I dump the contents of my bowl in the waste bin and make my way back up stairs. After making both mine and Renee's beds, I throw myself through the shower, not bothering to wash my hair. Once I've finished my morning routine, I go to my bedroom to finish getting ready. I brush through my hair before scraping it up into a ponytail - painfully, might I add.

It's hot again today, which is just fantastic seeing as I'll have to keep my arm covered all day. I sulk as I search my closet for something to wear. I end up picking out a white baggy t-shirt and an oversized, boyfriend style, red plaid shirt to go over the top. I leave the shirt unbuttoned and I put on a black jean skirt, tucking the t-shirt into it. _There. At least my legs will be cool_. Without a second thought about it, I grab my black Converse high tops - my favourite pair of shoes - from the bottom of my closet and put them on. Checking I have everything, I go down stairs, lock everything up and leave.

Are you shitting me? _Seriously? _Somehow my rear bicycle tyre is flat. _Does the universe have it out for me today?_ I don't have time to blow it up. With another sigh - which, so far, must be my hundredth today - I begin speed walking to school.

I make it to school a few minutes before the first bell, barely having enough time to get to my locker. Knowing my luck today, Miss. Wilkins will be right on time and I'll get in trouble for being late. I slip into my English class as the bell rings, and thankfully she's not here yet.

Unfortunately I have to pass every other student in my class, which is full.

_Why do I choose to sit at the back again?_

Several of them try to trip me up on my way to my desk, but surprisingly, I manage to dodge them all. With a sigh of relief, or exhaustion - I don't know which - I sit in my seat. People turn to stare at me, or more like glare at me - mainly the ones that attempted to hurt me. I feel like childishly sticking my tongue out at them, but that wouldn't get me very far.

I keep my head down for the whole of the lesson. I don't even bother putting my hand up to answer a question like I usually do. I just keep quiet and write notes when I need to. As soon as the bell rings I am off of my chair and out the door. Normally, I hang back until the class is empty, but I don't want to stay and be scrutinized by these people any longer.

Unfortunately, moving out to the halls isn't any better. I soon realise it is actually much, _much_ worse. We always have five minutes between each class; primarily so we can get any books we may need from our lockers. However, most people use this time to meet up with friends and talk. I couldn't do that even if I had any friends, because my Algebra classroom is virtually across the other side of the school.

A minute or two into my walk to Algebra, I can hear voices behind me. Obviously there are voices all around me, but these ones are close and I can hear every word.

"What's _her_ name?" I vaguely remember the female's voice from somewhere. It's one I've heard recently, but not one that I hear often.

"Who?" I know the responding voice's owner, however. Jessica _freaking_ Stanley.

"_Her_. With the _sneakers_ on," says the familiar, but not so familiar voice again. Okay, so they're talking about me. _Gee! They're just shoes._ She says 'sneakers' like it's a forbidden word. Like she's saying the most unacceptable and inexcusable thing. A part of me is glad I wore my black pair today. They're my most used pair, and it's obvious from their state. I smirk at the ridiculousness of the girls behind me.

"Oh. That's _Bella._" Lauren answers her this time, saying my name with a sneer. I'm beginning to wonder if they know I can hear them.

"Yeah. You don't need to worry about her. She's the town freak," Rosalie says, her disgust for me obvious in her voice.

I forgot until just now - ever since I started hanging back and waiting until the last minute to walk to my next class - that in between English and Algebra, Rosalie, Lauren and Jessica all walk the same way as me. Lauren and Jessica are in my Algebra class, and Rosalie is in the classroom two doors down. _Shit! I should've stayed back like I usually do._

"Freak? Why do you say that?" the mystery girl asks. _Who is she?_

"Just _look_ at her. Isn't it obvious?" Lauren asks, like the answers are all presented on a flashing neon sign attached to the back of my head.

Their hatred for me, their notions that I am a freak, is nothing that I wasn't already aware of. I know they all think I'm a freak. It doesn't bother me, it just means that they stay away, and I like that. But what _is_ going to bother me, and pretty quickly, is if they keep talking about me while I'm in earshot. _At least have the common decency to talk about me while I'm unaware, or say it to my face._

"Well, for one, she is _such_ a loner. I mean, like, she has _no_ friends," Jessica says. I tick that one off in my head. I knew my lack of companionship would be mentioned.

"None at all?" Mystery Girl asks in disbelief.

"None whatsoever," Lauren declares.

"That's just sad," the girl says. I roll my eyes. _What?_ 'Cause I like my own company, it's sad? I don't think so. I happen to like being on my own.

"_She's_ sad," Rosalie adds. She giggles and soon she is joined by Jessica and Lauren. I hear the unknown girl laugh along, too. I can feel myself getting a little angry. This is getting ridiculous. They _have_ to know I can hear them.

"Oh! And you want to know something else about Little Miss Freakshow?" Lauren asks after sobering momentarily from her giggling fit. She pauses for affect before saying, "She hardly ever speaks." And then she starts giggling all over again.

"Yeah. She only talks when answering questions in class," Jessica adds. I hold back my sigh of frustration, not wanting to clue them in to the fact that I'm starting to get more and more annoyed.

"Is she a bit of a know-it-all?" the unknown-to-me girl asks.

"Oh yeah. Definitely. She's a total loser," Lauren quips.

"I've heard she spends some lunches on her own, in the _library_," Jessica tells them, whispering the word 'library' like it's a top secret place. My anger dissipates for a moment as my amusement breaks through. _Oh my God._ You can tell she's never read a book for fun before. The girl probably wouldn't know where the library was, or how to even open a book.

My anger soon returns, however, as they carry on speaking. "Wow. You're right. Sheis an absolute freak," says the girl I don't know the name of. _How dare she! _She doesn't even know me. Why does she think she has the right to judge me? All four of them giggle. That shit is getting on my last nerve.

"And have you noticed her clothing habits?" Jessica asks rhetorically. _Well, it was obvious they were going to mention _that_ one. _If there's one thing these girls hate about me, it's my fashion sense. Or lack thereof in their opinions.

"The bitch has _no_ taste when it comes to fashion. She buys everything she wears from the local charity shop," Lauren says. Her shudder is audible. I roll my eyes again. That is _so _not true...

Okay, so maybe I like to buy _some_ of what I wear from _'Tanner's Charity Shop'. _Well, maybe '_most _of what I wear' would be closer to the truth. It's a wonderful little shop owned by Bree Tanner's family. She's one of the quieter girls in the sophomore class. It's mostly a clothing store, and all their stock is second hand.

I just find that second hand clothes have more character than brand new ones. They have their own story. They've lived a life already, and have the opportunity to live another. I'm not a consistent bargain hunter; I also buy _new_ items of clothing. It's just a large part of my wardrobe is made up of second hand items. This skirt _and _shirt are both from that store.

"It's sick. I cannot even set foot in that building. Who would want to wear something that's been on someone else's body? It's revolting," Jessica voices. She makes a gagging noise and this time I can't stop the clenching of my fists. I try hiding them with my long sleeves.

"Seriously? _Ugh. _How gross!" the girl with no name says.

"I know right? And what's with all the baggy and dark outfits? She _does_ realise it's Spring, right?" Rosalie questions rhetorically, her tinkling laugh following her words. I'm about to speed up and get away from these awful human beings, having heard enough, when the unnamed girl says something I don't expect.

"She wasn't wearing dark clothes yesterday." Her comment is casual. Innocent. Yet her words cause a cold stillness in my veins that stops me from walking away. The meaning of her words doesn't completely register right away, but after a few seconds it's like something clicks within my mind. _That's why I recognise her voice! _She's the younger girl from yesterday: the one that's moved into the house. She's part of the family that have prevented me from visiting my meadow anymore.

_The evil pixie!_

"What?"

"You know her?"

"Huh?"

Rosalie, Lauren and Jessica all express their shock and curiosity at once.

_Oh no!_ Please, no! I cannot have them, or _anyone_, find out about my meadow. "Well, when me and my family arrived yesterday-" Pixie Girl begins to answer, but I cut in. I've finally heard enough. The threat of my safe haven being revealed tips me over the edge.

I stop and spin, turning to face the four gossiping pains in my ass. They all stop walking and take a stumbling step back, startled at my sudden movement. I must look a little scary; with clenched fists, flaring nostrils and heavy breaths.

"For future reference," I start through gritted teeth, "if you have something to say about me, then you can say it to my face." I speak as quietly as I possibly can, hoping only these four will hear. "And," I continue, turning my gaze solely to the Pixie, "if you or any other new student wants to know something about me, all you have to do is ask," I say, before turning around so my back is to them all. I feel satisfaction at the memory of their stunned faces.

I stomp off, but only make it a few feet before they recover from their shock and fight back. "Oh my God. It spoke!" Jessica says snidely. I carry on walking, acting as if I didn't hear her.

"What were you going to say, Alice? Before you were _rudely _interrupted... When you and your family arrived yesterday..." Rosalie asks, loud enough for me, and anyone close by to hear. _Alice must be the Pixie's real name._ My heart begins pounding wildly in my chest as I come to an immediate stop. I keep my back facing them all. I notice some other people have stopped to see what is happening.

_No! Please don't be happening. Please be a dream._ I chant this over and over in my head as I wait for Alice to reply. My eyes are clenched shut. I don't know what to do. It's obvious any attempts I try and make to stop this will be shut down by Rosalie. I think back to her threats last week, and that's all the incentive I need to keep quiet.

"When we arrived yesterday afternoon, she came out of the trees outside our house, and then just _stood _there, _watching_ us. It was so strange. My mom asked her what she was doing there, but she never spoke. Not until my dad demanded she answer our questions. She was so rude. She just ignored us, and looked at us like _we _were the ones trespassing. I was already suspecting she was a weirdo, but I didn't know how much of one she actually was."

By the end of Alice's story, Rosalie, Lauren, Jessica and anyone nearby who heard is laughing hysterically. I slowly turn on the spot to face them again. Tears have gathered in my eyes, and my fists are clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

I want to lower my head and walk away, but I also want to say something. I want to defend myself. People are pointing and laughing; some are so worked up that they can't even get a breath out.

Jessica speaks through her cackles, loud enough for the audience to hear her. "Aww, poor Bella. She only has the forest wildlife as friends."

"Good one, Jess," Lauren snorts, slapping her thigh. "Bella, have you just started to speak again, now that you've come out of hibernation?"

Alice high fives Lauren, which only results in the laughing around me to increase. _I can't believe this. _I've gotten used to keeping my cool around them. I've mastered the skill of wearing a poker face when a joke about me is made. But this is personal. This is a strike that's hit the center of my heart.

I do what I haven't done in a very long time; I let a tear run down my face. It's only a single tear, but it's noticed. The pointing gets more aggressive, as does the laughing. I slowly begin backing up. I start to flee; something else I haven't done here in a _long_ time.

I can't see where I'm going, I only know that I need to get away. I don't get very far before my back hits into something solid. I quickly turn to see what it is, but my feet don't cooperate with the rest of me and I start to fall.

I'm saved, my fall broken, by a circle of arms around my shoulders. The person catches my left arm to stop my fall, pressing into my bruising and I unintentionally wince out loud. I'm helped to my feet and finally look up at the person that helped me.

I'd recognise that hair anywhere. It's the young man from the house yesterday; Alice's brother, I'm guessing. As soon as this realisation hits me, I feel defensive and try to pull away, muttering a "thank you." He keeps a hand on my elbow, even though I'm stood steadily now. He stays silent and continues to stare at me.

The laughter around us quietens noticeably, but I don't know why.

I didn't get a good look at him yesterday. I was trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. Especially after being met with such hostility. All I could think about was leaving. _Isn't that what I should be doing now? _But I can't. He's still staring at me, and all I can do is stare back. His forest green eyes have me locked in a trance. They are _very_ green, and remind me so much of my meadow.

I pull my eyes away from his, with much difficulty, to scan the rest of his face. His bronze hair I immediately recognised is messy, but in a it's-meant-to-look-like-this kind of way. His cheekbones are high, and his lips are full - the bottom more so than the top.

Oh my God... _am I _seriously_ looking at his lips right now?_ I glance back up at his eyes. Eyes are a safe facial feature to look at, right? _Shit! Not when they remind me so much of the place he and his family took from me._

He continues to stare and I start to feel a little uncomfortable. My blush seeps into my cheeks and then his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Hey, aren't you the girl from the forest yesterday?" he asks. The laughter surrounding us grows loud again, and my anger flares once more.

I yank my arm from his hand, and try to ignore the horrific pain that shoots up it. "Yes, I am! Now just drop it, okay?" I shout, before stomping off in my previously intended direction.

"Hey! Wait!" I hear him shouting at my retreating form, but I ignore his calls and carry on escaping.

The laughter follows me down the corridor.

* * *

**A/N: So there you go... Edward and his _wonderful_ family have joined the party. I probably should have said this sooner, but if you're looking for a story with the usual loveable gang, then this isn't the one for you. I've made it completely my own, character personalities and all. I hope that isn't too disappointing for the few readers that I have so far.**

**Was this chapter too long? I was worried about that. Let me know so I am aware for future reference.**

**Next chapter will be Edward's first POV - another chapter I am super excited to get uploaded. Bring on next Monday! Please let me know how you feel about the weekly update scheduele I've got going on at the moment. Behind the scenes, I am writing _weeks _ahead of what you guys are reading. Once it's complete I will increase my updates to two a week, maybe more, depending on how long this story ends up being.**

**Please leave me a review! I am incredibly eager (and also a bit nervous) to know what you guys think about this story so far! I'd really aprreicate some feedback.**

**Thanks for reading! See you in a week!**


	4. Chapter 4: 'Like a locked door' (EPOV)

**A/N: It's Monday again and I'm back with a brand new chapter AND some important information!! Firstly, thank you to the couple of you who have left a review! It pleases me very much to know I have readers who are enjoying my story!!**

**Secondly, thank you Anonymous1511. You have helped me a lot with coming to a decision on what to do about chapter lengths. This reviewer confirmed something that I'd been worrying about: my chapters were a bit too long. Since then, I have gone over all that I've written so far and split pretty much all of them into 2 plus chapters each. I now have _a lot_ of chapters already pre-written, and I'm not even half way through this story yet! So, I hope you are all prepared to come on this long journey with me!! And when I say long, I mean _looonnngg_!!**

**The most important thing I want to tell you is something I hope you'll all be very happy about! Instead of one chapter a week, I have decided to begin posting THREE times a week!!! Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I will upload a brand new chapter. If I keep with this schedule, I already have enough chapters to have me posting until early November! And like I said before, I'm no where near the end, so this story is going to be going on for a long while yet. I'm keeping up good pace with writing chapters, but in the future, if I seem to be slowing down, I will decrease to two chapters a week. But for now, it'll be three! I hope this has been good news for you all! I know _I'm_ excited!!!**

**Anyway, let's get into the next chapter. This is the first Edward POV and it's not a short chapter, even though it's been cut down quite a bit! I hope you enjoy!!!**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Four: 'Like a locked door' (Edward POV)

_Monday 17 April 2017_

New school: small.

New peers: boring.

New teachers: late.

I'm unimpressed. Like, ridiculously so. I've never had to leave all that I know, all that I'm comfortable with, to join completely new and unknown surroundings. My whole life I've had stability. I've had comfort. I've known what to expect and what to do. This is brand new territory for me.

And I hate it.

I've never joined a new school where I know no other student except my sister, especially not with most of the school year already passed.

From what I've heard from others, from what I've seen in the movies and TV shows or whatever, first days at a new school are meant to be exciting. Right? The chance to make new friends and build new relationships is supposed to be appealing, isn't it? Nerve-wracking, but appealing all the same. What about the new surroundings... they should be something to look forward to, shouldn't they?

Then why don't I feel an ounce of any of that today? I don't feel thrilled or excited to be joining a new high school. It's my first day at Forks High and so far, it's been crap. Simple as that.

This school is so small I'm surprised it can even be called a school. It's so small I don't even need a map to find my way around the halls like I'd probably need in other, _larger_ schools. The number of students enrolled here must be a sixth of those that attended my previous high school in Chicago. I honestly wouldn't have believed it had I been told prior to today. I wouldn't have believed it until I'd seen it with my own eyes. And even now, after I've walked some of the halls and had a look round, I'm finding it hard to fully believe.

But these people are used to this.

Everyone here has known each other their whole lives. More likely than not, they all went to the same nursery and elementary school. They all played on the streets together as kids and attended each other's birthday parties. They are all used to the small town life, where everybody knows everything about everyone.

Intruders, such as me and my family, are unwelcome because we are an anomaly in their tight knit foundation. We are disrupting the peace of what they know, which is probably why most of the students I've seen and come across so far today have kept their distance. At least, I'm assuming that's the reason.

_Most _are staying away.

On the other hand, there are some that have made the effort to introduce themselves, but then they have proceeded to ask questions. _Personal_ questions. Trying to find out every little detail about me and my life. One person went so far as to ask where I live. Just like that. They walked up to me, introduced themselves and asked outright, "where do you live?". I assume no one knows the answer because our new house is tucked away on the outskirts of Forks, in the thick of the woods that seem to border this tiny town. I'll be surprised if anyone saw where our cars and moving vans went, so our address must be quite a mystery here. I'll be dammed if I divulge that information to anyone.

I guess the Cullen's arrival in Forks has caused quite the stir.

Any hopes to attempt a meaningful and interesting conversation with these people have been squashed. Obliterated. I've only had one lesson, but after about the fifth person introduced themselves to then turn the point of conversation immediately on to me, where I'm from and why I moved here, I realised that all hope was lost. No one has simply said "hi" and asked how I am. Nobody has asked how I'm getting on or if I need any help navigating my way round, not that I do. They are all boring and nosy.

Okay... so I guess I'm being a _tad_ unfair. Like I said, I've only had one lesson and I haven't really given the school or the people in it a chance before I've judged them. However, in my defence, I didn't want to come here in the first place, much less make an effort with anything or anyone. I was perfectly content in Chicago, with people I've known for years.

Coming here, moving across states, across the country, was useless. I only have two more years of high school left after the summer, and my sister Alice only has one. I really don't know why our mom couldn't wait just a couple more years, why she couldn't hold off on her dream of living in a small town like Forks until both me and my sister had finished high school. But I guess she couldn't. And here we are.

The bell signalling the end of my first class rang a minute ago. I managed to escape before anyone could trap me into a conversation about myself, yet again. Luckily there are five minutes between each class, so I can work out where I have to be in plenty of time. Not that I need that much time to be honest. Like I've already said, it's a small school.

I look down at the paper in my hand, my schedule, as I walk to my next class, rereading the classroom number and teachers name. Calculus. _Yes_! After an hour of shitty English where we spoke of nothing but the importance of punctuation (like I don't know any of that already), anything maths related is warmly welcomed.

I fucking love maths. Any and all of it. I could happily spend every lesson doing maths. I'd have more fun in a room on my own with a stack of maths papers than I have at all so far today.

My eyes are still glued to my schedule as I walk. The loud and disturbing sound of laughter fills my ears. Whatever the joke is must be funny, because it seems everyone within the vicinity is laughing their asses off. The laughter distracts me from my schedule and I look up to see what the commotion is all about, but as I lift my head, I'm met with the rapidly approaching form of a petite girl with her long, brunette hair tied up into a pony tail at the back of her head.

Her pace and close proximity is startling. She's moving towards me too quickly and before I can move out of the way, her body comes crashing into mine. She jumps, shocked, and turns to face me suddenly, but loses her footing at the last second. She begins to tumble, off-balance, and I immediately reach out to stop her inevitable fall, circling my arms around her small frame just in time. Guilt fills me when I hear her audible wince, though I don't understand why she's in pain. I didn't grab her _that_ hard.

Once she's back on her feet and steady, she looks up at me, and I have to swallow back my gasp. Her eyes are the deepest chocolate brown I've ever seen. So so brown... and so so beautiful. I can't remove my gaze from hers.

I've always been good at reading people. Always. You can tell a lot about a person based on their eyes. No matter how hard you try to mask your emotions by neutralising your facial expression, your eyes will always reveal what you are feeling.

This girl, however, her eyes... they are like a locked door. A firmly locked door. One with dead bolts and padlocks. Her eyes give me nothing. It's like she has a mask on. The only tell to her emotions is the tears swimming in her eyes. The tears make her eyes glassy, but underneath them it's clear she's hiding every other feeling within her at this moment.

The tears show her hurt, but the rest of her is a blank. Void of any other emotion.

I'm still staring when I feel her trying to pull away. For some absurd reason, my hand involuntarily tightens around her elbow in response. _Edward, what are you doing? _My body doesn't seem to want to lose contact with this girl just yet, and neither do my eyes want to part from hers. She looks familiar but I can't work out how I know her.

I watch, fascinated by the movement of her eyes and the way the corridor lights above us reflect in them as she scans my face, settling on one feature before jumping to the next. And then, in a sudden jolt, her eyes meet mine. There's a split second where the door is open and a sliver of emotion escapes: embarrassment.

And as if to prove this, she blushes. The red bursts across her cheeks, travelling down her face and onto her neck. I don't allow my eyes to venture any further - that wouldn't be the safest course of action right now. I have to hold back another gasp. The reason I recognise her comes back to my memory as my eyes watch her face heat with her embarrassment. It's as if the final piece falls into place.

I've seen this girl blush before.

She's the one my family tore a shred out of yesterday, when we arrived at our new home. In my opinion, they were a little hard on her. By her skittish behaviour the previous afternoon, it was obvious that she didn't expect to see anyone there, and she wasn't doing any harm. I have to admit, I did find her silence a _little_ strange. The way she refused to speak until my family practically gave her no choice. But to be fair, I'd be afraid to talk if I was met with the same level of hostility from my family that she had been. They can be rather intimidating.

I want to say something, anything to her. To ease the uncomfortable fidgeting in her stance or to open the door in her shimmering brown eyes for just one more second. The only thing to come out of my mouth, however, is, "Hey, aren't you the girl from the forest yesterday?"

It's a reasonable question. One that is absurdly met with a roar of laughter from everyone around us. _H__uh_. I'd forgotten about them.

My focus is still on her face and I watch, confused as her eyes fill with fresh tears. She forcefully pulls her elbow from my grip as she takes a step back. I wanted emotion, but I didn't expect this. "Yes, I am! Now just drop it, okay?" she shouts at me, before marching away, down the corridor where I was just coming from.

"Hey!" I try getting the girl's attention. "Wait!" I shout. She doesn't acknowledge me, only continues her march down the corridor.

_What the hell just happened?_

I watch her hurry away, my eyes not leaving her escaping form until I can no longer see her. Once she disappears round the corner at the end of the corridor, I turn to the gathering of people. The laughter has died down now, with only a few of them chuckling at whatever was funny. Though after the last couple of minutes, I have a pretty good idea as to what that _whatever _was.

My sister is stood ten feet away, in the center of the corridor. Another three girls stand with her, all of whom have shit eating grins on their faces.

Alice smiles widely and waves at me, signalling me to go to her. I do. I can't exactly ignore my own sister... she'd never let it go.

As soon as I'm only a few feet away, she starts with her usual shit, fitting her typical role of Gossip Queen. "Edward, can you believe that weirdo from yesterday goes to school here?" she giggles, looking over my shoulder in the general direction the girl stalked off in.

"Yes I can believe it, Ali, because if you hadn't noticed already, this town only has one high school," I say with a roll of my eyes. She narrows hers at me slightly. "And what do you mean 'weirdo'? You don't even know her."

I hate when she does this. She gets it from our parents; judges someone before she gets to know them. It angers me to no end.

"I know enough," she scoffs, then looks up at the tall blonde stood beside her and rolls her eyes. I choose to ignore that statement, my thoughts returning to the events of not too long ago.

"Will she be okay? What did I do?" I ask aloud, looking behind me even though I know she's no longer there. My thoughts are muddled. I am completely and utterly baffled. What did I do wrong? I only asked a question.

"Don't waste your time worrying about her. She's a lost cause, something you'll come to learn fairly quickly," the blonde says to me, all the while looking me over from head to toe. "You must be Alice's brother. I'm Rosalie. Rosalie _Hale_," she introduces herself, holding her hand out to me. The emphasis on her surname doesn't go unnoticed by me.

I reach out to take her hand in mine, shaking it. "Um, hi..." I say unsurely, trying to figure out in my whirlwind of thoughts if I should recognise this Rosalie's last name. After a few seconds of awkward silence, my hand still shaking hers, I decide to go for honesty. As they say, it's the best policy. "Should I know who you are?" I question. Her lips thin as her hand falls away from mine.

Alice gasps. "I am so sorry," she hastens to a now sour faced Rosalie, before turning her glaring eyes to me. "Edward, don't be so rude," she snaps. "Rosalie is the _Mayor's daughter._ She and I had first class together and got chatting." She says it like it's a fantastic achievement that I should be applauding.

"Cool..." I drawl, not really knowing what else to say to that. _Congrats?_ "Well, it was lovely to meet you," I say, noting my desperate eagerness to get away from my sister and her new friends.

I go to step around them, but I'm stopped by one of the other girls my sister is stood with. This girl looks up at me, biting her bottom lip as she flicks her silver blonde hair over one shoulder, causing her scent to waft towards me. _Woah_! Her perfume is extremely overpowering, burning my nostrils and stinging my eyes. I try to hide any signs of harm she is causing, and offer a small smile.

"Alice," she begins without removing her predatory eyes from mine, "aren't you going to introduce us all to your brother?" A coy smile appears on her lips as she tilts her heard to the side, twisting a lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger.

"Of course," Alice says cheerily, stepping towards me with a flourish. She swivels to face her new friends, looping her arm through mine. I want to pull away. "Ladies, this is my younger brother, Edward. Eddie, this is Rosalie Hale, but you know that already. She's a junior, like me," she says, pointing to the blonde who still hasn't smiled since my attempt to leave. I try my hardest to remove the scowl that appeared on my face upon hearing Alice use my ridiculous nickname. She's been trying to force it on me since I was five. I hated it then and I hate it now. "And these two are sophomores, like you. This is Lauren McCarthy," she gestures to the overly fragranced girl that stopped me from leaving, who winks at me as she's introduced. I have to fight hard to hide my grimace. "And this is Jessica Stanley," she finishes, pointing to the other girl, who smirks and waves at me, the look in her eyes matching Lauren's.

Jessica and Lauren could be twins, or at the very least related. They both have different coloured hair; Lauren's is silver blonde, and Jessica's is a mousy brown. Their hair_styles_, on the other hand, are identical. And their clothes are too similar for it to be a coincidence.

"Oh, goody! You're in our year. Let me see your schedule, maybe we share a class," Jessica says excitedly as she snatches the sheet of paper out of my hand before I can respond. I almost groan when I see her eyes light up.

"Yay!" she exclaims, jumping up and down on the spot while clapping her hands excitedly, crinkling my schedule in the process. "You have Biology with us," she exclaims, a blinding smile on her small face. I don't know how to respond. This is all a bit bizarre. Remaining silent, I simply smile back at her, hoping it doesn't appear as more of a grimace.

"That's great. You can sit with us," Lauren suggests, stepping close to me to place her hand on my arm, a smile matching Jessica's on her face. _Alright, that's it. I've had enough!_ I step away from both my sister and Lauren, losing all contact with them.

Providing all four girls with what I hope is a polite smile, I retrieve my schedule from Jessica and take another cautious step back.

"We'll have to see when the time comes," I say in response to Lauren's suggestion. "But right now I have a class to get to. I don't want to be late. See you around," I say with a nod and another tight-lipped smile.

Finally I get away, quickly walking to my next class. I sit down at an empty desk near the front of the classroom. _Aaah. Peace._ Unfortunately, it doesn't last long.

"Hey! Asshole! That's my seat," a stern voice bellows from the doorway. I startle and look up to see the owner of the voice as he walks towards me. He's tall, I'd waver a guess at somewhere around six foot, with tan skin and short brown hair.

I raise an eyebrow and sit up straighter in my seat, readying to answer him. I don't get the chance. "Wait. Aren't you the new kid?" he asks, stopping once he's in front of what is apparently _his_ desk. I nod once. "Shit, man. I didn't realise. Don't worry about it then. It's cool. But just so you know, after today, that's where I sit," he says. I nod wordlessly again.

In the end, he sits in the empty seat to my right. He falls into the chair ungracefully, dropping his bag with a thud on the floor under the table. Then he turns to me. "I'm Tyler Crowley," he says. _Uh-oh. Here it comes. He's introduced himself. Now follow the questions._

I hold back my sigh as I answer, "Edward Cullen."

When all he does is smile and face the front of the class, I feel a little caught off guard. _Umm..._ I turn to face the front, too, puzzled yet relieved. I feel like I should say something. He's the first person to not fish for information, so maybe he'd be a good person to interact with. I can't go through all of school ignoring everybody. My thoughts, however, are preoccupied with my run in with that girl in the corridor. I can't seem to think of much else. I'm still confused as to what I did wrong.

"I just hate this lesson, don't you?" Tyler asks me after a few moments of wonderful silence. I turn to look at him again. He's staring at me with a bored expression.

"Um, no, I don't. I actually enjoy calculus," I answer truthfully. In Chicago, this statement would have been met with agreement from most of my classmates. Unsurprisingly, Tyler shows his disgust, scrunching his nose up at my words.

"Dude... _how_? It's the most shittiest fifty minutes of my day. And d'ya know what makes it worse?" I shake my head and shrug. "This is my _second_ year taking this class." I feel my eyebrows practically raise to my hairline. "Yeah, I know. Complete bullshit," he huffs, throwing his hands up in the air while shaking his head.

"You mean you're a junior?" I ask, trying not to sound too shocked. Tyler sighs and nods his head slowly.

"Yep," he says in an overly jovial voice - _too_ jovial to be admitting to the fact he's a year behind in this class, if you ask me. "Calculus just doesn't agree with me, but I need to pass it." I don't know what to say, so I turn back to face the front again. I look at the clock that's above the teachers desk and see its already two minutes into the lesson period. Where's the teacher?

Tyler's hand slapping the back of my shoulder startles me. My head whips to face him. "I have an idea! You could tutor me!" he says loudly. Most of the now full class of people turns to stare at us for a second, before quickly going back to their own conversations.

"I could do _what_?" I ask incredulously.

"You. Could. Tutor. Me," he states, deliberately slowing his words.

"No I couldn't," I answer matter-of-factly, throwing a humourless chuckle in for good measure. Tyler begins nodding before I've even finished my sentence.

"_Yes_, you could. You said you love this class. Well, _I_ hate it, but I _really_ need to pass. You could help me," he says. What he really means is, I could dothe work for him, so he can pass easily and without doing anything at all. _That is absolutely _not _going to happen._

"I'm sorry, Tyler, but tutoring isn't really my thing. You'll have to find someone else," I answer. His face falls, his disappointment showing.

"Aaah, it's okay. I'd probably piss you off in no time. I am _really_ shit at it," he replies. _Surely he can't be _that_ bad._

**A/N: So as I said in the Author's Note of my the first chapter, I am British, and here there is no such thing as having to retake a class if you fail it. So I hope I got that part right. If not, then I apologise.**

**Next chapter leads straight on from this one, and it's another EPOV! Leave me some reviews, please. See you one Wednesday!! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5: 'Cut her some slack' (EPOV)

**A/N: Here's the second upload for this week! From now on, any chapters that lead straight on from the last one will have a little _'Previously...'_ at the beginning, just as a little reminder for you guys.**

**Even though I cut down this chapter, it's still relatively long. Enjoy!**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_"I'm sorry, Tyler, but tutoring isn't really my thing. You'll have to find someone else," I answer. His face falls, his disappointment showing._

_"Aaah, it's okay. I'd probably piss you off in no time. I am _really_ shit at it," he replies. _Surely he can't be _that _bad.

Chapter Five: 'Cut her some slack' (Edward POV)

_Monday 17 April 2017_

Okay. He is _that _bad.

I can't believe it.

Our teacher, Mr. Potter - who ironically has a birthmark on his forehead and wears round glasses. _No joke!_ \- kept calling on Tyler to answer questions. It must be his way of trying to help Tyler understand. It's not working. Every answer Tyler gave was wrong, by a mile. I was starting to reconsider tutoring him after the seventh wrong answer.

I, on the other hand, breezed through the fifty minutes. It was _too _easy. I doubt such a small school has any advanced classes, though.

The bell signalling the end of this class rings, and everyone packs up. I read my schedule - Biology. _Great! _Jessica and Lauren are in that class.

I can't deny that they are both attractive girls. They both dress well and their pretty on the outside, but I'm not too sure about the inside. That girl that I bumped into, she had been crying before I met her today. I'm going to take a guess, if the laughing was any indication, that _she _was the punchline to the joke. And not surprisingly, my sister and her new friends were in the center of the gathering of students. It's no shock that they'd be the instigators.

Lauren and Jessica remind me a lot of my sister. Money means more than morals to them, and at the end of the day, that cancels out all the attraction a girl has. To _me_, at least. I'm still male. I have hormones and _feelings_. I can appreciate a good looking woman. However, I'm more attracted to a good personality. If the girl has both qualities, then that's fantastic.

My Aunt Gina has always said I'm a bit of an old soul. I'm not like most teenage boys. I'm not totally consumed by the need to impress the opposite sex... or the need to _have_ sex. That's probably why I've never had a girlfriend, but my time will come. After all, I'm only fifteen - nearly sixteen.

"Yo! Dude," Tyler shouts. I glance up to see he's by the door, looking at me.

"Who? Me?" I ask, pointing my thumb to my chest.

"Yeah. You want to sit with us at lunch?"

I feel my eyebrows raise again. I did not expect that. It's not like we had anything in common. "Um... who's 'us'?" I ask, walking toward him.

"Oh, just me and my friends. It'll be fun. You in?"

_Why the hell not? _It beats having to sit with my sister. "Sure," I answer. He smiles and smacks my shoulder before walking off.

I go to leave the classroom, but only make it a few steps. "Mr. Cullen," Mr. Potter calls my name from behind me. I turn to acknowledge him.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I was wondering if you're suitable for this class," he muses. I feel my brow furrow.

"I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"Okay, let me rephrase... I was wondering if this class is suitable for _you_." He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between us for several seconds. "It wasn't hard to notice your _ability_ during this lesson. I'd like to keep you here for the rest of the week, but if it's okay with you, after that I think you should transfer to the advanced calculus class."

I feel a large smile break out on my face. This is the best news I've heard all day. Heck, all _year._ Since finding out near the beginning of the year that we were moving, I haven't had much good news thrown my way.

And among all my new happiness, there is shock. Not for one second did I expect that a school of this size would have an advanced class of _any_ kind.

"Seriously?" I ask, unable to keep the hope and joy out of my voice.

"Seriously," Mr. Potter affirms. "The class runs at the same time as this one, so you won't have to disrupt your current schedule. You would be with students from other years, especially the older ones, but I doubt that'll be a problem based on what I've seen from you today," he tells me, a genuine smile on his long face.

"Wow." This is great news. "Thanks, Mr. Potter," I marvel. He reaches out to shake my hand.

"No problem. I'm sure this'll be my last week with you in my class," he remarks, smiling. "Have a nice day, Edward."

"Thank you. You too."

I walk to my next class, all smiles and with a spring in my step. I reach my Biology class and the smile drops away, the spring leaving my step. I have to fight the urge to turn around and walk away when I see how Lauren and Jessica are sat.

They've taken the three front and center seats, and seem to have reserved the middle one for me. As soon as I walk in, they both sit up on their stools a little straighter, pushing out their chests and messing with their hair. These girls obviously don't know the meaning of subtle. I walk further into the room, which unfortunately brings me closer to them.

"Hello, Edward," Lauren greets. The way she says my name is sort of creepy; in a low and almost husky tone. The seductive voice doesn't really work for her.

"We saved a seat for you," Jessica says, leaning across slowly to pat the empty stool between them. I smirk, and they both sit higher in their chairs, pushing their chests out further. _Oh dear God_. My smirk seems to give them the wrong idea. I'm _actually _trying hard not to laugh at them; this is quite comical to witness.

I try and think of what to say to them. I don't want to sit here, but as I look around the room, I notice nearly all the seats are taken. My eyes scan the room again, and that's when I see her. The girl from the corridor.

She's sat at the very back of the classroom. Her shoulders are slouched and her head is bent down. I can't see her face, but I know it's her. She's wearing the same red, plaid shirt as before. _It is _way_ too big for her._

It's refreshing to see a teenage girl in something other than tightly fitted, designer clothes. I've been around it for so long. With my sister and the area we lived in Chicago, everyone tried to dress their best. Everyone _had _to, being a part of our community. But this girl, she's more casual. She's _different_.

I like it.

"Actually ladies," I begin, not taking my eyes off the girl. _I _really _wish I knew her name._ "I think I'll sit somewhere else for now. Maybe some other day, yeah?" I ask, finally looking down at them. Their smiles have disappeared, and their postures have slumped.

"Um... okay? But we'll see you at lunch, right?" Lauren asks hopefully. _Thank God I have other arrangements!_

"Sorry. I already have plans," I answer. Lauren frowns, while Jessica huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

I take that as my chance to leave, and move around their desk. I walk to the back and sit in the last empty seat available in the room, next to the girl. She doesn't realise I'm here. Either that, or she's choosing to ignore me. I get the things I need out of my bag, and then lean my elbows onto the tabletop, turning my face towards her.

Seeing as she hasn't noticed me yet, I sneakily give her the once over. Thankfully _I _know the meaning of subtle. Her clothes are too baggy for me to see much, unlike most of the girls I've come across this morning. She's drawing in a notebook with her right hand, while her left is holding the hem of her black denim skirt in a tight fist. Her grip tightens, her knuckles turning white, so I chance a look up to her face. She's glaring at me out the corner of her eye. _Shit! She caught me._ So much for being subtle.

I quickly avert my eyes to the front of the class, only to see Jessica and Lauren glaring at the girl next to me. _What the fuck? _I look to my left, wondering if she's noticed, but she's concentrating on her notebook again.

I clear my throat once. Her pen stops moving for a second - the only sign I have that she heard me - before she carries on drawing again. Okay_. Rude._ I clear my throat again. She sighs heavily before turning her head to look at me. _Shit! Those eyes._ I clear my throat once more, though for a different reason this time, and try offering her a smile.

"Hi," I say. She narrows her eyes at me. It's only a short, fleeting movement, but I notice it.

"Hi." Her reply is short and clipped, though thankfully, her voice is quieter than earlier. It's a significant difference from the shouting I received in the corridor.

"Um..." I chuckle, starting to feel a little nervous. I don't know how to interpret her behaviour. I mean, it's not as if she dislikes me, right? She doesn't know anything about me. "I'm Edward," I say, holding my hand out between us.

"Bella," she replies, her voice still stern. _At least she gave me her name._ She shakes my hand with one weak, but quick flick of her wrist, before she pulls away and picks up her pen again. Just that small second of contact leaves my hand tingling, but I try my hardest to ignore it.

I want to say more, but I'm starting to get the impression that she doesn't want to talk. I don't know if that's just to me, or if that applies to everyone. I want to say something else, to clear this uneasy tension that seems to be lingering in the air around us. My brain musters up several things to say, but what leaves my mouth is totally unplanned.

"I'm sorry." Her head quickly turns to me, her hair whipping across her shoulder. I get a whiff of strawberries, and have to battle my desire to take a longer sniff of her hair. _Edward, what the fuck are you thinking?_ Gee! I sound like a girl.

"For what?" she asks. Her voice is slightly softer, though still not entirely friendly. Her eyes still show that mask from earlier, and I'm a bit surprised when I feel disappointed by this.

"For earlier… when I hurt you," I answer. Her brow furrows as she quickly looks away. She drops her pen, and reaches up to run her finger down the double set of chains that are around her neck, peaking out from beneath her top. The rest of the necklaces are hidden beneath the oversized white t-shirt she is wearing.

"You didn't. It's fine," she says quietly, dismissing me, before looking down at her left hand in her lap, which is still gripping her skirt.

"I'm pretty sure I did. I heard you wince," I argue, leaning closer to her so I can speak without anyone hearing. She jolts away from me, turning her head to stare at me. She's scowling, and her eyes are burning with anger. _Woah_. The sudden surge of emotions present in her eyes startles me.

"You didn't, okay? I think I'd know if you hurt me or not. It is _my _body," she hisses. Her eyes quickly scan the room and she rapidly drops her head, looking down at her lap once more. I look around too, only to see Lauren and Jessica still staring over here, though they are now smirking slyly.

"Alright. _God_. I get it. No need to bite my head off. I was only apologising," I say defensively, turning to face the front. Just then, our teacher, Mr. Banner, enters the classroom. He's two minutes late. _I__ can see a pattern emerging here._

For the remainder of the fifty minutes, I regularly look over at Bella - trying to be inconspicuous as I do so. There are some moments where I think she knows what I'm doing. The way she shifts in her chair every now and then. The way she hides her face with her ponytail. The way she stops writing for a few short seconds at a time.

There's a point where we have to share a textbook to copy from. It's placed between us, in the center of the desk, and we both lean in simultaneously to read the information. Our shoulders touch and she quickly jumps away, sliding to the very edge of the desk. I manage to not chuckle, but I can't stop a smirk from stretching across my lips. She looks up at me hesitantly. When she sees the smirk, she narrows her eyes and huffs, before sitting up straight again. I do nothing to stop my chuckle this time, which only angers her further.

_She's kind of cute when she's all pissed off_, I muse to myself.

At the end of the class, everyone begins packing up. I notice Bella is moving at a rather slow pace, like she has all the time in the world. Confused, I shake my head at the strangeness of this girl, and finish packing my bag. I don't even bother saying goodbye to Bella. She was rude to me, so I'll be rude back. _Childish?_ Maybe.

My next class goes by too quickly, and before I know it, lunch has arrived. The bell rings, and everyone rushes out of the room. I walk at a leisurely speed to the cafeteria. When I arrive, I stand in the doorway for a moment, looking around for Tyler. I notice people are staring. It's no surprise. I'm the new kid who's arrived over half way through the school year. I'm bound to be the center of attention for a while.

I spot Tyler sat at the table in the center of the room. He is sat with another two guys. He sees me and waves me over, causing the other two to look up at me. I walk towards them, and take the empty seat on Tyler's left.

"Edward, this is Emmett," he says, pointing towards the big dude with short, dark hair sat opposite me. When I say 'big', I mean it as in he has _a lot_ of muscle. He's tall as well, that much is clear even when he's sat down. "And this is Jasper," Tyler finishes, pointing to the blonde guy sat a couple of chairs away, on my left. They both nod their heads as a greeting.

"Hi," I say. They both remain silent and continue staring at me. I start to feel a little fidgety, when Emmett breaks the ice by smiling.

"Hey, man." He chuckles. "How was Biology with the girls?" Emmett asks, a wide grin on his face. He's lounging back in his chair, bulging arms crossed over his chest.

"The girls?" I query, confused. He asked like I'm supposed to know who he's referring to. Like I can read his mind.

"Yeah. Lauren and Jess. I hear you're in their biology class," he answers.

"Oh, yeah... yeah. It was... okay," I answer, briefly thinking back to Bella's attitude towards me. "Wait... you know them?" I ask him, his words finally sinking in.

"Of course. Lauren's my lil' sister, and Rosie is my girl. She told me you all met earlier on," he answers, his smile growing at the mention of his girlfriend, or his sister - I don't know which.

"Rose is also Jasper's sister," Tyler speaks up. I look at Jasper, but he doesn't confirm this. He doesn't even seem to be listening. He's balancing on the back legs of his chair, and looking around the room.

"So you're the Mayor's son?" I ask him.

"Yeah. He is," Tyler replies when it becomes clear Jasper isn't going to answer. "Where are the girls anyway?" Tyler asks, glancing around us. Emmett chuckles, shaking his head.

"You know how they are, Ty. They're probably in the bathroom, re-doing their makeup or whatever," he says, still chuckling. "Oh! Here they come," he says excitedly, looking behind me. I turn in my chair to face the cafeteria doors. Alice, Rosalie, Lauren and Jessica walk in. People wave and smile at them, but the girls only respond to a select few. It's like the others aren't worthy of a wave or smile in return. _My sister will fit in just fine with these girls._

"Fuck, Edward. Is that your sister?" Jasper says, his voice full of awe. This is the first time he's spoken to me. I take my eyes off of the approaching girls, and look at him. He's sat properly now, with all four legs of his chair planted firmly on the ground.

"Um, yeah," I answer.

"Fuck," he curses again. He continues speaking without removing his eyes from my sister. "She's hot!" he exclaims.

I feel my eyebrows raise almost impossibly high. "Excuse me?" I ask, my tone losing all its friendliness. Alice may get on my nerves a majority of the time, but she's still my sister. His eyes briefly meet mine, and he shrugs unapologetically, before returning his lustful gaze to my sister. I shake my head at the rudeness of him, before also returning my gaze to the girls.

Lauren and Jessica rush forward, both striding quickly towards me. They both race to the empty chair on my left, almost knocking me onto the floor as they practically sit on top of each other in an attempt to sit in the same seat. Lauren wins, her victorious smile almost blinding. Jessica scowls, and reluctantly takes the seat next to her friend.

"Hey bro," Alice says as she walks past me, ruffling my hair. I frown and bat her hand away from my head. She knows I hate that shit. She sits down opposite Jasper, unaware of his ogling.

"Alice," I reply. My voice reminds me of how Bella greeted me in class; short and clipped. I don't know if that's due to my anger at Jasper's remark, or my frustration over Alice's action.

The scraping of a chair drags my attention in front of me. Rosalie is slowly pulling out the seat bedside Emmett, all the while staring at me. She doesn't take her eyes away from mine until she's sat in the seat. Then she finally turns to Emmett, who seems to be waiting impatiently for her. _He needs to calm down._ He's practically vibrating in his seat.

Rosalie goes to speak, possibly to say 'hi', but she never gets the chance. Emmett wraps his large hand around the back of her neck, and pulls her towards him. They begin kissing indecently, right in front of me and everyone else. I glance around at the other people at our table, but none of them seem affected by the nauseating PDA. Not even Jasper.

_Gee_. Here's me fuming over a simple statement about my sister, while an unfazed Jasper is sat a chair away from his, who currently has someone's tongue down her throat.

Jessica introduces Alice to the guys, much to Jasper's liking, while Lauren rests her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm. She bats her eyes at me and leans closer. I try not to gag at the strength of her perfume. I think she's sprayed more on since earlier.

Emmett pulls away from Rosalie, giving them both a chance to breathe. She speaks to him quietly, the two of them seemingly in their own little world, before he and Jasper get up and make their way to the lunch line. Thankfully, I brought my own lunch today. I wanted to scope out what the food was like here before I relied on it for my lunch. I'm glad I did; I'm starving and that line is _way_ too long for me to have waited in.

"So, Edward..." Lauren begins, drawing all of the attention to me. I _hate_ unnecessary attention. "How was it, sitting next to bookworm Bella?" Lauren asks me. Everyone else at the table goes silent, and they all look at me.

"_Bookworm Bella_?" I question.

"That's the nickname she's been given around here. Along with many others, that being the nicest one," Lauren answers with a giggle. Everyone else laughs along with her quietly.

"What does she mean, Edward? Did you have to sit next to her?" Alice asks, genuine concern in her voice.

"Oh, you poor thing." Rosalie adds, though her sincerity is lacking. I guess I'm not forgiven for my earlier meeting with her. _It's not my fault I don't find her local status impressive._

"I didn't _have_ to," I answer firmly.

"You mean you _wanted_ to?" Alice asks, horrified, as if it's the most preposterous thing to happen in the history of mankind.

"Well, yeah. I wanted to apologise."

"Why?" Rosalie asks me, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table. I feel like I'm being interrogated for a crime.

"Because... because I upset her earlier today, and I didn't mean to," I tell them, getting a little flustered. I shouldn't have to explain my reasons for sitting somewhere. This is completely ridiculous!

"It wasn't you, man," Tyler sighs, patting my shoulder.

"What?" I ask. _What's _that_ supposed to mean?_

"You have to understand, that girl has issues," Jessica declares, feigning sadness for Bella.

"That, and she'd just been exposed," Rosalie mutters, chuckling darkly.

"Exposed?" I ask, utterly confused.

"You know this, Edward," Alice sighs, rolling her eyes. "You asked her about it yourself. She was trespassing on our land yesterday, and she was caught out." _In other words, you told everyone about it._ Alice can be such a bitch sometimes.

"Honestly, Edward, I wouldn't worry about her. Like I said earlier, she's a lost cause. Apologising won't help in any way. Don't bother with her," Rosalie suggests. Her voice is softer now. This is the nicest tone of voice she's used with me since we met, though there's a slight authoritive undertone to her voice, like her words aren't a suggestion at all, more of a demand.

"Don't bother with who?" Emmett asks as he and Jasper sit back down with two trays, each piled with mountains of food. Everyone at the table begins helping themselves to the food. I glance over to the lunch line in shock. _Did they skip the whole line? _I guess there are perks to being the Mayor's son and future son-in-law, depending on how serious Emmett's relationship is with Rosalie.

"Who do you think?" Rosalie answers Emmett's question, a frown marring her features. Her eyes are trained on a spot behind me, and one by one, all of the other occupants of our table stare in the same direction. I turn in my seat, just as Bella walks past us.

I realise pretty quickly that it's not just our group that are staring at her. Most of the people in the room are. And they are pointing and laughing quietly, too. Bella doesn't react in any way. She keeps her head down as she walks hurriedly to a table at the back of the room. It's by the trash cans... and it's also empty. I frown, though mine is most likely for a different reason to Rosalie's.

_Why is Bella sitting alone?_

We all watch her as she sits down and pulls out a book from her bag. She places it down on the table, and then bends her head over it and begins reading. The angle she has her head held means her face is obscured from my view.

"_Ooooh_, you were talking about _Bella_. Of course," Emmett says, clicking his fingers.

"Well done, Dumbass," Tyler chuckles.

"You know, you should really cut her some slack," Emmett says casually, picking up a slice of pizza and stuffing half of it into his mouth. Rosalie stops what she is doing, and turns to her boyfriend. She grimaces for a moment at his animalistic eating habits, before scowling at him.

"Firstly, stop eating like a pig," she reprimands him with a smack to the back of the head. The other girls at the table giggle, while us guys grimace. _Poor Emmett. _"And secondly, I should _cut her some slack_?" she asks incredulously, quoting him.

"Yeah. I mean, you were friends with her once. We _all _were," he says, his voice the quietest I've heard it. Alice gasps in shock, while I remain silent.

"Ugh. Don't remind me," Rosalie complains, shuddering.

"You were?" Alice questions. Rosalie closes her eyes, in regret most probably, and nods.

"Yes. But it was a bad judgment on _all_ of our behalfs," she says, glaring at Emmett, before turning back to my sister. "Trust me, I won't be making _that_ mistake again."

"I can see why," Alice says, looking over her shoulder at Bella, who is still reading her book. _I wonder what it is she's reading_. "You wouldn't see me in those clothes, even if my life depended on it," Alice comments, shivering in disgust.

"I know."

"Mm-hmm."

"You can say that again."

Rosalie, Lauren and Jessica all agree with Alice simultaneously. I roll my eyes. _Women_.

"Oh, I like it!" Emmett voices, his eyes trained on Bella. Rosalie slowly turns towards him at a menacing pace. She looks about ready to commit murder. "The grungy look gives her an edge. It makes her interesting," he continues, oblivious to the anger he is causing.

"Fuck off, Emmett," Rosalie huffs, giving him a stern look before crossing her arms over her chest and turning her head away from him. Emmett looks stunned, while Jasper and Tyler snigger.

"Rosie, what's wrong?" Emmett asks, sounding like a lost puppy. He reaches for her arm, but she yanks it away from his hand.

"Why are you defending her?" she asks, turning to face him fully.

"I'm not. I'm only saying what I think," he answers, clueless as to what the problem is. I'm confused, too, in all honesty.

"_Don't_!" she snaps, before standing up suddenly and stomping off.

"Fucks sake," he groans, dragging his hands down his face.

"You're an idiot, Em," Jasper says, chuckling all the while.

"Totally," Lauren sighs, rolling her eyes.

Emmett nods sullenly. He looks longingly at all the food on the trays, before getting up. "See you guys later," he sighs as he walks off, going after his irate girlfriend.

The rest of the table begin talking about what's just happened, as I lean back in my chair and eat. I look up just as Bella does. Our eyes meet. They are only locked for a second or two, before she looks to my left, blushes and looks down at her book again. I turn to see what made her look away so quickly, and realise Lauren is glaring at her.

I frown and stare back over to Bella, but she doesn't look up again.

**A/N: I hope you liked this new chapter! The next one, which is also an Edward POV, will be posted on Friday. Please leave me your thoughts in the review section! I'd love some more feedback!**

**Thanks again for reading! See you on Friday!**


	6. Chapter 6: 'An unwanted surprise' (EPOV)

**A/N: Hey! Back with another chapter for you guys! It's the last one for this week :( . I wish I could post everyday, but I know I have to keep _some_ kind of schedule!**

**We're still with Edward for this chapter, and here you'll see how his home life is.**

**I**** hope you enjoy and I'll see you at the bottom!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_I look up just as Bella does. Our eyes meet. They are only locked for a second or two, before she looks to my left, blushes and looks down at her book again. I turn to see what made her look away so quickly, and realise Lauren is glaring at her._

_I frown and stare back over to Bella, but she doesn't look up again._

Chapter Six: 'An unwanted surprise' (Edward POV)

_Monday 17 April 2017_

Bella disappeared after lunch.

She slipped out of the cafeteria before the masses, and with my company at the time, I couldn't exactly follow her.

I watched her during lunch. I did my best to keep my interest to myself, not wanting anymore harassment from the people sat with me, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to know why she looked away when Lauren glared at her. I wanted to know _why_ Lauren glared at her - because there had to be a reason these people hated her so much. I wanted to know what book she was reading. I wanted to know why she sat alone in a cafeteria full of people.

I wanted to know, and I had no way of knowing. And that frustrated me.

She didn't look up at me again. If anything, her head grew closer to the pages of her book, her nose literally buried into it. I'd watched her, stealing glances, a part of me hoping she'd look back up. She didn't.

Lauren had placed her hand on my thigh at one point towards the end of lunch. She startled me so much, because at the time my eyes had strayed to the mysterious bookworm across the room _again_, that I jumped high in my seat. My butt literally left the chair, causing all attention to fall on me once more.

After assuring everyone that I was okay, and glaring at a smirking Lauren, I quickly looked Bella's way again, but she'd vanished. _Poof_. I have no idea when, and no idea how she did it so quickly. I had to have looked away for no more than fifteen, possibly twenty seconds.

It wasn't long before the rest of the people filling the cafeteria started leaving, and I got swept up in the bustle of the corridors. With Lauren on my left and Jessica on my right, I didn't get a word in edge ways. But I kept my eyes peeled, hoping to catch a glimpse of a girl wearing a much-too-large red plaid shirt.

I have to admit, my interest in Bella has confused me all day. I've been racking my brain for the reason. Maybe it's pity? When it was obvious she'd be sitting alone all lunch, I had a sudden wave of guilt hit me. Guilt for being so rude to her at the end of Biology, even though she'd started it. But a part of me knew pity wasn't the reason. Or not the _f__ull_ reason at least.

I was hoping she'd be in another lesson of mine, but it appears we only share Biology class. I didn't see her in the halls between lessons, or in the parking lot as I was leaving school. I'd heard Rosalie mention to Alice over lunch that Bella doesn't drive to school, she cycles. I guess she'd already left by the time I exited the school.

I also heard some of the guys talking in the changing rooms after gym, about Bella and the incident in the halls after first lesson. The incident which _I'd_ made worse, apparently, by saying what I did. _Shit_. The things they were saying were... well, let's just say it's not something I'd ever think about saying to someone's face. Especially a girl. She seems to have a lot of enemies in this school.

I wanted to speak to the gym teacher after class about joining the basketball team. I played in my last school and know that Forks High School has a team. Whether it's anything serious or just something casual I have yet to determine. But after hearing the not-so-nice words about Bella in the gym, on top of my already shit-tastic day, I didn't feel up to it. I'll speak to him tomorrow.

The events of the day, particularly my first run in with Bella, are playing through my mind when Alice turns down the road to our house. She mutters something under her breath about a "creepy ass forest" and "stupid fucking angles". She's right about the forest being creepy. It is, kinda. And the fact that we practically live _in_ it doesn't help. The angle, I'm assuming, is the turn in to the road that leads up to our house. It's at a very awkward angle, extremely acute, but I like it. The obscurity of it is comforting. Harder for any nosy town folk to find.

I can't help but smile as we draw closer to the house. As small and unimpressive as this town is, or has seemed so far, our new home is truly magnificent. I like it much better than the house I've lived in for the past almost sixteen years. It's unique and homely, ancient seeming but modern at the same time. It's a change from the clinical white structure, mostly transparent walls, and open space of our last home. I always felt so exposed there. And as much as I love Chicago, _this_ is the house I'd have preferred to grow up in. It's more of a family home, and less of a doctor's and lawyer's showplace.

The garage doors open when Alice presses the button on her remote, a device that both of our parents have, and one I'll also have once I get my license. She drives her red Cadillac into her space in the garage, cutting off the engine. "Get out," she orders as she climbs out herself. She's been in a pissy mood with me since we've been in this car and away from the company of others. I smile ruefully as I extricate myself from her car, slamming the door shut with more force than is probably necessary.

Alice just rolls her eyes at me, locking her car as she walks away. "Thanks for the ride," I call out to her. She stops and turns to me, tapping her foot as she stares at me for a few long seconds.

"Thanks for making me look like a complete idiot today," she huffs, glaring.

_Huh? _"Huh?" I start walking slowly toward her. "Alice, what do you mean?"

"You... you're such an embarrassment." I step back in shock. _Me? An embarrassment?_ "Why'd you have to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Sit next to that strange Ella girl."

"Her name is actually Bella and I didn't realise there was a problem with sitting next to certain people."

"Fuck, Edward." She throws her hands up in the air, waving them about as she starts lecturing me. "I don't care if she's called Ella or Bella or Jane or flaming Phoebe! It's not important. _She's _not important. What _i__s_ important is making friends with the right people. Not ditching them when they've shown an interest in you, when they've made arrangements to sit next to you, only for you to bin them off to sit by the _one_ person they can't stand. _Jesus_, Edward, talk about making enemies."

"_Ooooh_. I get it. You've spoken to Lauren and Jessica. About my decision to _not_ follow their commands in Biology." Alice simply nods, raising an eyebrow, like she's waiting for me to explain myself. I walk forward until I'm stood only a few feet in front of her. "I can sit wherever I want, Alice. It's not going to affect who _you_ make friends with. They seemed fine with me at lunch, so I don't see what the problem is."

"I don't care what you want, Edward. _I_ want to be friends with these people. And I won't have my baby brother embarrassing me by associating with the town's Loser. She won't be good for your image, Edward. Mom and Dad will be happy with my choices, and you should join me in it. You still need to get back into their good books after throwing such a hissyfit when we found out about moving."

I did _not_ throw a hissyfit. I _may_ have shouted and refused and made a bit of a fuss. Who wouldn't? I was being told I was to leave everything and everyone I'd ever known, to move to some unknown town, _in the middle of_ _high school_ no less. Of course I was angry, and I let that be known.

_Didn't make the slight bit of difference though._

I sigh, running my fingers through my hair in agitation. "To be honest, Alice, I couldn't care less who I associated with. None of them will be as close to me as Kyle and Will were. I just want to get through the rest of High School with as little drama as possible."

"Good. No drama. That means you won't go near that girl again."

I gape at Alice. She is _so_ not getting my point.

"Alice, I... That's not..." I sigh. "Never mind."

With a slouch in my shoulders and a shake of my head, I walk past her and make my way to my bedroom.

This house has three floors. The garage is on the main, center floor. The floor above is where most of the bedrooms are, but when we were choosing our rooms, I went for one of the two that are on the lower level. In the far right corner of the house.

I exit the main floor through a door in the garage, which leads me down a flight of stairs to the lower level. Alice will probably head up to her room. She is the only one sleeping up on the top floor. My parents chose the master bedroom, which is located on the main floor. This is a very large house, with a rather unique structure and layout.

I make my way down stairs, through what will be the media room, then passed what is going to be one of the living areas, and down the hall where this floor's two bedrooms are. Mine is at the very end of the hallway.

Boxes and unorganised furniture fills almost every room of this house. We were meant to arrive a week ago, so we'd all have a week to settle in a bit before me and Alice started school and my parents started at their new jobs. Some misunderstanding with the moving company ruined that plan. No matter how much money my parents offered the company, they just couldn't move things around at the last minute.

I'm sure things will be hectic for a little while. Our housekeeper won't be arriving in town for another week yet, so I can guarantee that not much will get unpacked and sorted in that time. My mom will rarely do things like that, especially without the help of a paid employee. And my dad is always too busy to pitch in.

I step into my room, and after closing the door behind me, I sag against it in relief. Alone. _At last. _I drop my bag on the floor, beside an unopened box, before face planting to my bed. I just want to stay here, doing nothing until I'm told otherwise. I know I can't do that though. I need to start unpacking my room, at least. I drag myself up, planting myself on the edge of my bed.

My bed, which has a dark wood frame and no sheets on currently, is the only piece of furniture that's actually in the place I want it. And for that, I am very glad. I know organising this room will take much deliberation and effort. It's a very... unique shaped room.

You see, the back of this house is odd, in reference to its structure. From the front this whole house appears normal. Well, kind of. It has walls jutting out at random points, forming many rooms and corners inside, but it's still pretty normal compared to the back.

The back has three hexagonal shaped extensions. It's the best way I can explain it. One in the center, and one at either corner. Where my room is means that I have one of the hexagonal shaped extensions making up part of it.

With a walk-in closet on the left wall, along with an ensuite beside it, it's a rather spacious room. Double doors lead to the patio outside, and to the right of those doors is the hexagonal shape. A window is in every wall of the extension, bar one.

I love it, and I'm glad I chose this to be my room. Alice hates it, which is why she chose the most boring of bedrooms the house has to offer, which also happens to have one of the largest closets the house has to offer.

My bed sits in the hexagonal extension, facing inwards, so when I'm led down, the double doors will be to my right. The rest of my furniture is currently stood together, close to the double doors. It must have all been brought inside via those doors.

With a sigh I get to work, moving my two bright yellow painted wooden bedside tables to their rightful place; on either side of my headboard. It takes me a while to move my heavy dark wood desk to the wall opposite, but kind of to the left of, my bed.

I have just shuffled my yellow leather arm chair to it's place against the wall between my bed and desk when my bedroom door opens. I look up at the unannounced intruder, to see my mother appear. I should have known. She is the only person that doesn't knock when entering my room. She looks around, appraising my room in scrutiny, before her eyes land on me. She quirks an eyebrow, eyes jumping to the armchair my hand is still resting on.

"I can't believe you chose _yellow_," she voices distastefully. I shrug, looking down at the piece of furniture.

"I like yellow. I think it looks good against the dark walls." It's true. In my opinion, the bright colour of my armchair and bedside tables looks great against the extremely dark brown coloured walls I chose for my room.

Me and my sister were both given the freedom of redecorating our new rooms however we wanted. I noted, when we were choosing colours and furniture, that Alice ordered _a lot_ of pink. We were given a budget, which she exceeded by almost $750. I guess her overspend is okay, seeing as I barely used half of the budget. I'm quite happy with my choices.

I look back up at my mother when she sighs loudly, just in time to catch her rolling her eyes at my words. She and Alice have that same annoying habit. They have done for a very long time. "Whatever you like, Edward. It is _you _that has to sleep in here, not me." _Exactly_. "Dinner is almost ready. Come up soon," she tells me before turning and leaving, not bothering to close my door behind her.

_Hello to you, too, Mother... Yes, I had a great day. Thanks for asking._

With a heavy sigh and a nod to the now empty doorway, I exit my bedroom, closing the door behind me. At the beginning of the hallway is the bottom of a staircase, which leads to the floor above. So, instead of walking to the other side of the house to ascend stairs that'll bring me to the garage, I can simply walk up these stairs directly to the foyer.

Boxes are stacked in every room. Furniture sits in random places, obviously not in their set location just yet. The only room that seems to be almost completely organised and livable is the formal dining room.

...Yes. I said _formal_ dining room. My parents have always believed in having a place to eat celebratory meals and host dinner parties - the _formal _dining room - but having an alternative for casual eating such as breakfast, or times when not all of us are eating together - the _in_formal dining room. The latter is in the left hexagonal extension of the house, branching off of the kitchen.

The formal dining room is very elegant. Numerous thin, but tall windows are lined up to fill the front and left side walls of the room, allowing lots of natural light to enter. However, they technically aren't necessary, thanks to the magnificent crystal chandelier that hangs low in the center of the room. Matching crystal wall lights are spaced out around the room, too. Underneath the chandelier is a long, mahogany table. It's surrounded by matching curved-back, cream cushioned dining chairs. It seats ten, which is absurd because there are only four of us that actually live here. But it's perfect for when my parents host business dinners, so I guess it's not a _total_ waste.

The table is set ready for a meal. Plates of garlic bread and a large bowl of salad sits in the center of it, too.

My father, Dr. Carlisle Cullen, sits at the head of the table. His fingers are loosely wrapped around the stem of a wine glass, an opened bottle of some kind of Italian red wine just a bit up the table. Alice sits to his left, her head bent over her phone as she types furiously, occasionally lifting the device in front of her face while she poses for a selfie - for _Snapchat_ most likely.

I choose the chair next to Alice's, silently sliding it out and sitting down. All the while, my father watches my every move in unnerving silence. I can hear Mom moving around in the kitchen, not too far down the hallway.

"Evening, Edward," my father greets me finally. Always so formal.

"Hey, Dad," I reply more casually, offering a smile. "Have a good first day at work?"

"Yes, thank you. Good first day at school?" he questions in response.

"It was alright."

It should have stopped there. Our conversation should be over, as is usually the case at the end of a weekday. But Alice has to go and throw out a remark. "Bullshit," she mumbles around a fake cough. I turn to glare at her, warning her not to start. She glares right back at me.

"What's going on?" my father asks, using his stern _don't-try-and-fool-me_ voice. "Ali?" he directs the question to his _Princess_ when neither of us move from our glaring match. We glare at each other for a few seconds more, before she smiles sweetly as she turns to face our patiently waiting father.

"Oh, nothing, Daddy. Just that Edward here thought it'd be a _super_ idea to make enemies of the people we _should_ be befriending." She directs the last part at me as she emphasises what apparently _we_ 'should' be doing.

Dad focuses his gaze on me, raising an eyebrow in question. I roll my eyes, stealing Alice's annoying habit to show my disagreement. "Alice, don't be so dramatic. I didn't make any enemies today."

"Well, you tried your damned hardest, didn't you?"

I just glare at her in response.

"_What_ is going on? Edward?"

"Nothing, Dad. Seriously. Alice is just trying to cause trouble when there's no reason to," I say, aiming my words at Alice, my eyes not moving from her face.

"Alice? You seem to think otherwise." He sits straighter in his chair, changing from relaxed to determined in an instant.

"I do, Daddy. 'Cause _I_ don't downplay things. Edward really hurt Jess and Lauren's feelings today." At that moment, my mother walks into the room, carrying a large dish of lasagne. She walks around the table, setting it down in between the salad and garlic bread before pulling out the chair to the right of my father, directly opposite Alice.

"Oh, Alice has told me about all the people she met today. Lauren and Jessica sound like lovely girls," she adds, a soft smile on her face. Her smile drops as she speaks to me, her disappointment already palpable. I haven't even done anything! "What did you do, Edward?" _NOTHING!_

"I haven't done a thing, Mom! Alice is just a looking for a problem somewhere that there isn't one," I say defensively.

"Yes there is, Edward! _You_ sat next to _Bella_ instead of Jess and Lauren and that really hurt their feelings because you said you would."

"No I didn't. I said _maybe_," I argue. Mom shakes her head and sighs as she pushes the lasagne closer to Dad, offering him some first. He is staring at me calculatively.

He's silent while he serves himself some lasagna, grabs a couple pieces of bread and scoops a bit of salad onto his plate. Next is Alice, who huffs, sending me the odd glare as she fills her plate with a measly portion. Then my mother. And finally me. Once we've all got what we need, my father finally speaks. "Let's just have a pleasant family meal, shall we? No arguments or bickering. It's our first proper meal in this lovely new home. Let's enjoy it. Okay, everyone?"

A chorus of "Yes, Dad", "Yes, Daddy" and "Yes, Sweetie" sound at the same time. He smiles, nods and digs in. The silence only lasts for a few minutes before my dad asks how Mom's day was.

I'm nearly finished with my dinner, having zoned out of the conversation almost immediately, when something my mom says catches my attention.

"A _plaid_ shirt? _Really_?" she asks, her repugnance is as clear as the crystals of the chandelier above us.

"Yes! Can you believe it?! The thing was monstrous. It _drowned_ her, too! It was absolutely despicable! And she had it on with a _black_ denim skirt and these absolutely _vile_ Converse. _Ugh!_ It should be illegal to wear something so... _old_ and tatty," Alice replies.

"Oh my goodness! Why? How bad were they?"

"Oh, Mom, they were disastrous. I swear that _girl_ must only own that one pair of shoes. There is no other explanation as to why they are in such a state."

It doesn't take me long to catch on to exactly _who _it is they're talking out. The 'plaid shirt' comment was a pretty large clue, but the comment about the shoes is the last thing I hear before I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. Conversation halts for a fraction of a second before Mom and Alice begin talking with a flourish of emotions once again. Meanwhile, my father sits back, a half-filled glass of wine in hand as he watches me stand and leave. I meet his eyes as I turn to leave, offering him what I hope is a smile, though it feels like more of a grimace. I feel his eyes on my back as I turn away and leave the _f__ormal _dining room.

After dumping my dishes in the kitchen, not bothering to put them in the dishwasher like I do when our housekeeper is here, I head back down to my room. I use the garage staircase so I don't have to pass the dining room. And the laughter I can hear echoing down the hall.

Alice gets on so well with our parents. I, on the other hand, don't. Mine and my parents' relationship is... strained. And that's putting it lightly.

My parents _love_ Alice. They absolutely adore her. She's the most precious thing in their world. She was their first born, and she's their only girl. She's their little princess and nothing will change that. Or get in the way of it.

On the other hand, I was a surprise - an _unwanted _surprise. My parents only ever wanted one child. That was enough for them. They wanted the perfect family - a happy marriage and one loveable child they could pin all of their focus on. So, when they found out about me, it was a shock. It was an unwelcome turn of events for them.

For some bazaar reason, against their desires in life, they decided to keep me. My whole life I've felt the weight of their resentment towards me. I ruined their perfect family plan.

I _know_ that they love me, in their own special way. It's not _me_ that they hate, it's the life I forced upon them. I should never have been conceived, and they haven't tried very hard to make me think any different.

My whole life I've been in Alice's shadow. I've been pushed to the side and ignored. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Alice sometimes. Her relationship with our parents is so strong, like concrete. It's all I used to want with them. But that's not going to happen. Ever. And I've come to accept that.

My dislike for our lifestyle doesn't really help my case. I've never embraced the life they provide me. I've always hated attending the events at the country clubs and I've never been enthused about the dinner parties.

Because of this, my parents think they need to control every aspect of my life. They feel the need to try and steer me in the 'right direction'... whatever that may be. Sometimes it's little things they like to take over, like the clothes I wear to a party at one of my mom's friend's house. However, it's also bigger parts of my life that they like to control, too. They control my friends and the people I socialise with, for example.

And recently, I found out what their plan for my future is. _It's comical, right?_ How does that even make sense? ... "_t__heir _plan for _my_ future"... but it's true. They have expressed their ideas for what I will do. They plan for me to go to the same medical school as my father, so that I can become a doctor, _just like him._

Some would think this is fantastic. A chance that must be taken. And I don't disagree. Becoming a doctor would be a tremendous career to take on, but it's just not what I feel passionate about. It's not what I want to do. Photography is something I want to pursue, though I'd never even mention it to my parents. They believe it's a silly hobby I'll grow out of eventually, which is why I've been allowed to spend money on all the equipment for it. But to have a career in it... _wow_. That would be incredible.

They want me and Alice, who plans on studying fashion in Paris, to go on and do big and wonderful things - like they have. My dad, Carlisle, is a doctor. He's a surgeon to be more specific, and a damn good one, nationally renowned. When they decided to move us, and their search for small towns began, he got many offers. His new position at Forks hospital was the best of them all. My mom, Esme, is the new managing partner of a law firm in a nearby city called Port Angeles. She's also made a name for herself, having been a well-known lawyer back in Chicago.

When they informed me of their plans for me to attend the same medical school as my father, my first thought was "_they want to ship me off"._ It'll be across the country, over 2,000 miles away now that we live in Washington.

I still think that, to be honest. They'd have me out of the way, so they could focus on their golden child, going to Paris to visit her and spoil her rotten. They'd have me out of the way so that they could focus on the life they once wished for.

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**A/N: What do you think of this chapter? Again, _these _characters are different from the originals, as you can tell. The lovely, caring Esme is absent I'm afraid. But it's all necessary for my story.**

**Unfortunately, this is the last chapter of the week, _BUT_ I will be back Monday with the next chapter! It will be another Edward POV, but it will be the final one before we get back to Bella's perspective for a while.**

**Leave me a review, let me know what you're thinking, how you're feeling about this so far! Thank you for reading and I'll see you back here on Monday! :)**


	7. Cheater 7: 'One more try' (EPOV)

**A/N: Hello again! It's the beginning of a new week and here's the first of this week's three uploads! This one is another Edward POV, and will be the last one for a while. There is no '_Previously..._' because it isn't a direct follow on from that very moment - it's the next day. This is my shortest chapter yet. Anyway, thanks for the reviews you've given me so far! Keep 'em coming! :D**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Seven: 'One more try' (Edward POV)

_Tuesday 18 April 2017_

Thanks to how yesterday played out, I'm not too enthused about going to school today. I can feel it in my bones, in my gut. It's heavy, and unsettling. I _want_ to be excited for it, but I just can't find any. If there is any excitement, any at all, for school, it's buried deep into my emotions, hidden by strong feelings of dread and loathing.

I have no energy today. Not one ounce of me wants to get out of bed. I'm dreading facing another day at that place. More specifically, another day of upsetting Bella, even though I don't see how I did so yesterday. She hates me nonetheless. I'm feaful for another day of insistent flirting from Lauren and Jessica. Another day of scrutinizing stares from Rosalie and judgemental eye rolls from my sister. Another day of rude remarks _about _my sister from Jasper, and almost unbelievably incorrect calculus answers from Tyler.

Emmett isn't so bad. I haven't spent a lot of time with him, but so far he hasn't given me a reason to be wary of him. He's just really clueless when it comes to his girlfriend.

I reluctantly get out of bed and quickly throw myself through the shower. I get dressed in some dark denim jeans and a grey t-shirt, before shuffling up the stairs. I go to the kitchen and can already hear my mom and Alice chattering away happily.

_It is not normal for people to have that much energy so early in the morning._

They have always been like this. My whole family have, even my dad. They are all morning people, whereas I'm one of those that you should leave well alone in the morning. It's like poking a beehive, and awakening all the once peaceful slumbering bees - it's deadly.

I silently walk around the kitchen, trying to find the things I need in this new layout (the fact that most of it remains unpacked makes it that much harder) and fix myself a bowl of cereal. After pouring a cup of coffee, I walk out of the rear kitchen door and turn left, to get to the _i__nformal_ dining area.

This dining area is very open. It's a six-sided bay that has a window on every wall _of_ that bay, exposing all occupants to the wonderful views. The view of the large expanse of wilderness behind our house has me wanting to grab my camera and snap some photos. A big, circular table sits in the center of the once empty room, surrounded by five chairs. It's a lot more suitable for us than the formal dining area, which has ten seats.

Alice and my mom are sat at the table, next to each other. I sit opposite them, with my back to the entrance.

"Morning, Edward," my mom says.

"Morning," I grumble, as I shovel a spoonful into my mouth. I barely aim right, resulting in most of the milk dripping down my chin. My mom's nose wrinkles at the sight, and she offers me a tight-lipped smile before turning back to Alice.

They both have waffles and strawberries for breakfast, which they nibble at as they look through a chunky catalog that is laid between them on top of the table. It's probably a clothing catalog, knowing them.

I'm about to put another spoonful into my mouth, when the joyful, loud voice of my father startles me. "Good morning, everybody!"

I end up spilling some more milk down my chin. _For fucks sake!_ I wipe at it with a napkin, and try to ignore my mother's second look of disdain at my clumsy eating habits. I'm not usually this clumsy, but it is early and I'm not in the best of moods. I'm going to take them as my reasons.

"Edward, be careful when you eat," my dad instructs as he pulls out the chair to my right and sits down. _My first reprimand of the day is from... drum roll, please... Carlisle Cullen._ That's usually the starting point of my day…_ I wonder who will be next!_

"Sorry," I mumble, still in a bad mood, but for additional reasons now. You know what I'd love? For my father to wake up in the morning and pleasantly greet me when he sees me for the first time. Instead, I get an instruction or correction from him. Nothing more than that. I am normally the first to say 'hello' to him, or 'how are you?'.

"I'll go fetch your breakfast, Dear," my mom says, as she stands and leaves the room. She's back a couple of minutes later, placing a plate piled with food in front of my dad. I look to my bowl of cereal and then at the three plates surrounding me. _Their breakfasts sure look appetizing._ I sigh as I consume another mouthful of boring, soggy cereal.

"Thank you, love. I won't be able to eat all of this though; I must be leaving soon," my father says, tucking into his food. He scoffs down as much as he can in a few minutes, before gulping down his boiling coffee and standing. "I'm sorry to leave so soon, but I was called into a last minute meeting at the hospital. There seems to be a problem," he says.

"Oh, don't worry. You best be off then," my mother says as she stands. He hugs her, and kisses her cheek delicately, before wishing her a good day. He then leans down to kiss Alice's cheek.

"See you later, Princess. Good luck with that test today," he says.

"Thank you, Daddy!" she replies, a large grin stretched across her face.

He then turns for the door. "Bye, Edward," he says as he walks past me. He offers me a lazy wave. That's it.

"Bye," I answer, but he's already out of the room. _Good luck to you too, Edward. - Oh thank you, Father,_ I think to myself, sarcastically. I overheard Alice telling our parents, last night during dinner, about the cross-curriculum test that's taking place today. It'll only be us taking it, and it's for our teachers to see what level we're working at, seeing as we've been in a completely different State for most of the academic year. Why they can't converse with our previous school, I'll never know. Would make things much easier.

I stand from the table and collect my dishes, before making my way to the kitchen. After tidying away what I need to, I head downstairs to get my last items for school. Now all I have to do is wait.

Alice leaves it until the last minute to be ready to leave. I hate relying on her. _I can't wait until I can drive._

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_That was extremely painful._

I don't see why Mr. Potter feels the need to force Tyler to answer the questions. He'll never get them right. It's a lost cause. He didn't get a single one correct today... just like yesterday. I was starting to feel sorry for him. I'm glad to be done with that lesson, and that's the first time I've said that about maths of _any_ kind.

Now time for Biology. I take a deep breath in before I enter the classroom. It's mostly empty, seeing as I practically sprinted out of Calculus. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Almost all of the chairs are empty. Only a handful of students are huddled around a desk along the right of the room, and then there is Bella, sat in the same space as yesterday. I contemplate sitting as far from her as possible, but then decide against it.

_It couldn't hurt to try approaching her again, right?_

She's sat with her head buried in a notebook, where she's doodling, _again_. Without thinking about it any further, and before I can talk myself out of it, I stride to the back of the room, and sit myself on the stool beside her.

"Hi," I say as cheerily as I can. I see her look to me out the corner of her eye, before she bends her head further to the page and carries on drawing.

I sigh. _What is her problem?_ Feeling defeated, I huff like a petulant child and cross my arms across my chest, turning to face the still somewhat empty classroom. I try to ignore her presence, just as she is doing to me, but I can't. I don't know what my deal is. I just can't seem to give up.

Maybe it's the challenge she is practically offering me on a platter. It's like coming across a big red button that has 'DO NOT PRESS' written on it. Of course you are going to press the damn button! It's too tempting! This situation is a lot like that. Bella is proposing a challenge; one where I have to coerce her into a conversation with me, even if it's strictly civil. I need _something _from her. Any kind of positive reaction, at all. The more she refuses, the more I want to make her like me. Even for a second.

But first, I need to get her to look at me. How am I-

_Aha! _There is only one way I accomplished that yesterday. The first time she looked at me in class was when I looked her up and down. It can't hurt to try.

So, I do just that. I look her up and down, but afterwards, when I look up to her face, I see she has only sunk herself lower to her desk. _Is she trying to become a part of the table? _I don't think she can get any closer, and still manage to do whatever it is she is doing.

I sigh once more, and decide to go for a different approach. I start thinking... and look at her again. I hope she realises it's Spring. I know it's not exactly tank top weather outside, but it's definitely not cold enough for a thick, black hoodie, which is precisely what she is currently wearing - along with a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans and the same scruffy black Converse high tops as yesterday.

"Do you only ever wear Converse?" I ask her, just deciding to go for it. The silent creepy approach obviously isn't working.

I am met with silence. A cold, dead silence.

And an equally cold, dead stare.

"What?" she demands after a few moments.

"I said, do you onl-"

"I know what you said!" she interrupts, biting the words at me.

"Oh, um, okay. Sorry," I reply, feeling chastised. I feel my shoulders slump involuntarily. Bella continues to stare at me. Her eyes are still closed off from me; a chocolate brown with no emotion - well, except anger. Anger for me, and my stupid, yet innocent question. "Well?" I finally ask, raising both my eyebrows. Technically, she still hasn't answered me.

"Yes, I do only ever wear Converse. Problem?" she asks shortly. I can feel myself becoming flustered, and nervous. What is it with this girl? I can't seem to do anything right.

"No. No problem at all. I was just... curious," I tell her, shrugging.

"Yeah, well curiosity killed the cat. Ever heard of that saying?" she asks rhetorically. I know it's rhetorical, because she turns back to her notebook before I can give her an answer.

Even if she doesn't wish for an answer, I decide to give her one anyway. But before I can, Mr. Banner calls for the class' attention. I didn't even realise everyone had entered, or that our teacher had arrived.

I sigh and turn to the front, disheartened at how our conversation turned out.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

Biology goes by at an unbelievably slow pace, but I know the reason for that: Bella. She continues to ignore me for the entire fifty minutes, and I can't comprehend why it bothers me so much. Much like yesterday, Bella packs up slower than necessary, and I'm out of the classroom before she has even packed up half of her stuff.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

I try and forget about the whole situation for the rest of the day. But I don't succeed. As time passes by, my anger builds. Why do I feel bad about the fact that Bella is cold towards me? Who is she to me? I haven't done anything wrong, and I sure as hell haven't made this much effort with anyone else. Why am I chasing her? It's not my job to make her like me.

When lunch comes around, I've made up my mind. I'll give it one more try. I tell myself that there must be a reason I'm so hooked on getting her to talk to me, in another way besides hostile. I don't know that reason, but I do know that there is one. I hope the chance to speak to her will come sooner than later, and as luck would have it, it does.

I've chosen to try some of the school food today, instead of bringing my own. I head for the line before going to my table. Everyone is already sat there, but I don't feel like going over to them straight away.

I don't see her at first. I keep my eyes locked on the front of the line, disbelieving of how slow it's moving. I huff and look down to retrieve my phone from my pocket, wanting to find something to do while I stand here. That's when I realise who is stood in front of me.

I see Converse. _Black_ Converse, to be more specific. I slowly raise my eyes... _l__ight blue jeans, black hoodie, brown hair - which she has piled messily on top of her head today._ Bella!

This is my chance. One more try. That's all I'm giving now. After this, I'll forget that I ever attempted to talk to her, that I ever tried to be friendly.

I clear my throat first. Due to the fact that it's pretty loud in here, I put her lack of response down to inability to hear me. _Guess I'll have to get her attention some other way._

With only a slight hesitation, I raise my hand and tap her shoulder. She whips around so fast that she stumbles, bumping into the person in front of her. She winces. _Seriously?_ She has a _really_ weak pain tolerance. She hardly touched the guy. The person in front of her turns to give her a glare, but she's oblivious to this. Her murderous gaze is set on me.

I feel nervous all of a sudden, and begin shuffling from one foot to the other. _Shit! _This hasn't gone how I wanted it to. _Say something, you moron._ I open my mouth to do just that, but no words come out.

Bella raises her eyebrows expectantly, but still, no sound leaves my mouth. "Can I help you?" she asks. Her voice isn't as harsh as I expected, but I think that's because we are surrounded by people, so she is trying to keep her voice down.

"Um, I just wanted to say... uhh... _sorry_?" I say, though it comes out as more of a question. It's the first thing that came to mind. _Why would I need to apologise? I am _so _fucking stupid._

Bella sighs. "This again? Really? What are you apologising for this time?" she questions, arching a single eyebrow.

_Just say what you need to say._ I take in a deep breath, and release it slowly before answering her. "I just feel like I have done something to upset you. I don't know what... the way we met yesterday, my question about your shoes today... I... I don't know, but whatever it is, I am sorry."

I wait with bated breath for her to respond. She stares at me blankly for a second. I search her eyes for any tell of what she is feeling, but as usual, they show nothing.

"You..." she begins, but stops short, seeming to rethink her answer. "There's nothing for you to apologise for," she says. Then she turns her back to me.

_Okay... _I think I've just been dismissed. I can't help but feel like she's wrong. I must have done _something_ to warrant this treatment. No one treats someone this way, _unless_ they deserve it. And I don't, _do I?_

I lean down, seeing as she's smaller than me, so my head is hovering over her shoulder and close to her ear - but not inappropriately close. "I beg to differ... Could you please tell me what I've done wrong?" I ask, my voice as soft as I can make it go. Inside, I'm starting to feel angry. And defeated. But my voice doesn't reflect any of this, thankfully.

She turns, but hasn't realised how close I am, so her head bumps into mine. Luckily I had began to pull back already, so the knock wasn't too harsh. I expect her to wince or show any sign of pain, like she has in the past, but she doesn't. Her cheeks flood with colour, and she suddenly steps back, so there is more distance between us.

"What is your problem?! I told you, you've done nothing wrong. Now just leave me alone. Got it?" Her voice has risen slightly, but it's still not loud enough to gain too much attention. One or two people around us have started looking, and I know that I need to wrap this up. I've obviously made a mistake in ever trying to be nice to this girl.

"I'm not the one with a problem," I retort. Maybe that was a bit harsh-

_No!_ It wasn't harsh at all. It's _exactly_ what she deserves.

I watch her face for a reaction, but she just turns to face away from me again, completely unfazed by what I said. It's either that, or she's great at masking her emotions.

That's it. The final straw has been drawn. I've made my final attempt, and it was an utter fail. I won't try again now. She's obviously got issues. I haven't understood why the others spoke about her the way they did, but I am starting to see it now. She's completely unapproachable. Maybe _she_ is the reason she has no friends. It would make sense.

There was something about this girl that intrigued me at first. I wanted to know why she sits alone, why she is so quiet, why she wears dark, baggy clothes. I wanted to know why she is _different._ There's a reason for every life choice, and for some reason, I wanted to know her reasoning for these choices.

But now? Now, I couldn't care less. Rudeness is a bad quality to have. It's an ugly trait to possess.

It's surprising, how fast you can go off of someone. How fast you can become uninterested in them

* * *

.

**A/N: Please don't hate me! And don't lose faith! Bella has been alone for a long time. Closeness and companionship is alien to her, so this relationship is going to be a slow builder. I hope you're all up for that!**

**Next upload will be Bella's POV... her thoughts on the events of the past couple chapters (don't worry, there won't be much overlapping and repetition - I know _I _hate when there's too much of that) and more of her home life. There are quite a few Bella POV's coming up next. I hope you're ready... _and_ as excited as I am!**

**Thank you once again for reading! Leave me your thoughts and perhaps some predictions? How do _you_ think this Bella and Edward's friendship/relationship will progress? What do you think the next step in it will be? Let me know!**

**See you on WEDNESDAY!**


	8. Chapter 8: 'Eyes on me' (BPOV)

**A/N: Back to Bella for this chapter!** **Enjoy!**

**_Disclaimer_****_: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Eight: 'Eyes on me' (Bella POV)

_Wednesday 19 April 2017_

Can this guy not take a hint?

I don't know how much more obvious I can be. I've practically told him to fuck off, without resulting to cussing. He just doesn't seem to get it. I don't understand why he keeps trying.

This is only Edward's second day here, and I already dislike the guy. He is relentless in his attempts of talking to me. I wouldn't be so cold usually... okay, that's a lie. But it _could_ have been true, if he hadn't done so much to piss me off already.

After our first encounter yesterday, when he furthered my mortification by asking me what had already been confirmed, I admit, I was angry. More than angry actually. I was livid. He must have heard the conversation beforehand. That laughter was thunderous, and it echoed through the halls_. I should know_; during my flee from that hallway, the noise followed me. So there is no way he was oblivious to the fact that _I _was the joke. I refuse to believe it. And that means he asked me on purpose. Surely. It's the only possibility... _Right?_

Then he has to go and ruin my solitude during lessons by sitting next to me. No one sits next to me. _Ever_. And I _like_ it that way. On top of that, his seating choice drew the attention of the devil-duo to me. As if I don't have enough troubles with them as it is.

To make matters worse, the bastard had the cheek to check me out. At least I think that's what he was doing. I don't get that kind of attention all that often, not that I want it, and it made me feel like a piece of meat on a plate. I felt highly uncomfortable. I have to give him credit though, he _did_ have the courtesy of looking sheepish when he found that he'd been caught. I wouldn't have noticed if it was anyone else, probably, but he wasn't discreet. At all.

After that, he apologised. At first I couldn't work out why, and I was a little taken off guard. I'm not someone that people apologise to. I'm usually the one _doing_ the apologising. My first guess was that he was apologising for his wandering eyes, but turns out I was wrong.

He had noticed my wince. _Shit_. I have been so careful for all these years. Ever since my first injury, at school I was always careful. No one has ever suspected a thing. But, as soon as _he_ arrives, this infuriating boy who can't seem to take clear hints, my carefully hidden signs of pain are suddenly not so hidden. I can't believe he heard me. It was almost too quiet for even my own ears to catch, let alone his. _He was pretty close though..._

Internally, I appreciate his apology. Like I said, I'm not used to it and it was a... _nice _change. However, when he argued with me over what _I_ felt, all appreciation went out the window. Who in their right mind challenges something like that? It doesn't even matter that he was correct, that he _had_ hurt me. What matters is that I said he didn't, and that should have been the end of it.

Luckily, he isn't in any other class of mine. Only Biology. For that, I am thankful. I went home yesterday, thinking I'd made such a horrible impression he would never want to talk to me again. _Perfect_.

No. Not perfect. I was wrong. It seems like my behaviour towards him yesterday only made him more curious. So during Biology - which is the first time I saw him today - he continued on with his personal mission of getting me to speak with him. I don't understand why. I was so mean to him yesterday. There was a part of me that felt bad about it. But that part was very small.

I tried ignoring him at first, but then he had to go and comment on my shoes. I've had enough of that recently. Everyone seems to hate them, which I don't understand because Converse are a well loved brand. The only problem I can think of is the person wearing them. _Me_. That's what everyone hates.

All through Biology I was nervous, there was a heavy knot in the pit of my stomach. I waited and waited, absolutely certain he would try to speak to me _again,_ but shockingly enough, he didn't.

I was _so_ relieved... yeah. Relieved.

My relief remained my domineering emotion up until lunch. I was more than happy for it to stay for the rest of the day, an eraser for that horrible sensation in my belly, but I'm not so lucky. _When am I ever lucky?_

Guess who stood behind me in the lunch line? Edward _f__laming_ Cullen. That's who! With his throat clearing and shoulder tapping that made me fall into the person stood in front of me, causing my bruise to be knocked. _AGAIN!_ With his damn apologies that, for a moment, made me see why my mother hates _mine _so much.

And then, with his relenting _strange_ need to keep striking conversation with me... after I'd turned away and he'd leant close to my ear to talk to me. I was caught off guard. And I _hate_ being caught off guard. The vulnerability it makes me feel frightens me, though I don't let that be known to the outside world.

After my little outburst, demanding he leave me alone, I saw the flame that ignites his determination die. Literally, the passion in his vibrant green eyes, the pestering and uncommon (to me, at least) need to keep coming back at me, I saw it vanish. It seems that I'd pushed his last button. He was out of gas. He was done trying.

I realised a little too late that maybe I'd been a bit _too_ harsh. The second I saw his mind change, a little voice inside _my_ mind kept chanting "Idiot, idiot, idiot. Stupid fucking idiot."

And after his seething, but totally expected final words to me, about _him_ not being the one with a problem, that little voice grew louder and larger until it was almost deafening inside my own mind. I felt disappointed, ashamed, saddened... but as usual, I didn't let any of this show. The wall I've carefully constructed around myself, the mask I've strategically pieced together, both stay strong, doing what they do best and hiding my true feelings from those around me.

When I turned my back to Edward, he would've been left with the impression that I didn't care about his harsh, cold words. Words that he practically spat at me. Little did he know, that couldn't have been farther from the truth.

Now, here I sit at my table of one by the trash cans. My head is bent over my worn out copy of **_The Notebook _**\- it's my favourite Nicholas Sparks novel - while I take apart the orange I got for lunch. It's not much but I didn't want to linger in the line for long. Knowing Edward stood so close, yet I'd pushed him so far away, was excruciating.

Which is ridiculous.

My behaviour toward him, the cold and defensive way I'd handled _every single_ encounter with him, was for the best. If I'd reacted to his apologies and attempts at engaging in conversation kindly, that would've given him the wrong impression. It would've made him believe that we could be friends, and that's just not possible.

The matter of social status is the most glaringly obvious reason. We come from two different worlds. I mean, just _look_ at his house! Look at the cars he and his family pulled up in on Sunday. Look at the kind of people he and his sister have already befriended... And then look at me. Look at my house, my mother's car and my _bicycle_, my friends or lack thereof. There is no way, not in a billion years, that we'd remain friends for any length of time. We're too different.

Me feeling anything but relief and happiness at the result of my rude and distant behaviour is just preposterous. It's not like I'm cheating myself out of anything beneficial. In the end, he'd realise I'm not worth it and go back to the people he belongs with. He'd realise I'm from the lower level of society in this town, and be ashamed to be seen with me.

And don't forget my secret. _No one_ can know about what happens at home. That's the whole reason I don't mind being alone. That's the sole purpose of my solitude.

So, _yeah_. This is definitely for the best. I should be _happy._ For the first time in a while, things have worked out in my favour.

After I've gone over everything in my mind, I have to stop the slight smile from appearing on my face. I don't want to seem like a completely heartless bitch.

There was a point yesterday, during lunch, when I felt a pair of eyes on me. I had looked up and noticed Edward's eyes locked on me. He wouldn't look away, even as I stared right back at him. It was only for a few moments that our eyes met. It was a few moments, where there was no awkward apology from him, or unexplainable hostility from me. It was a few moments where we just looked. That was it.

I only looked away once I noticed another pair of eyes on me. Whereas Edward's gaze was curious and kind, Lauren's - who was sat to his left - glared at me with such hate in her eyes, that I felt like I was doing something wrong by merely glancing at Edward. I blushed and looked away, not daring to meet his eyes again.

This lunch time, just a day later, that same feeling washes over me. I feel a pair of eyes on me and cautiously look up to the center table, only just in time to watch Edward's head quickly turn away from me. It's obvious he was looking over here, but he didn't want to get caught. I sigh, looking down at my book once more.

A few minutes later, I feel eyes on me again, so I look up. He's staring, again, though this time he doesn't look away. We both stay frozen, gazing at one another for a while. Like yesterday, Lauren notices me looking over at them, and she glares at me. Today's glare is even more lethal than yesterday's, and a slight chill runs up my spine as she narrows her eyes into barely visible slits. I blush, just as I did yesterday, and look back down at my book.

I don't raise my head again, even as I feel more than one pair of eyes on me. _Much _more than just one.

**~I*A*F*P*I*M~**

The rest of the school week goes by rather slowly. Edward doesn't try to speak to me again. I don't see him in the halls, though I'm not surprised by that, seeing as I don't look up from the floor often enough. He stops sitting next to me in Biology, instead choosing a seat over at the front of the class, in the far left corner. Lauren and Jessica don't seem too pleased about this. He also avoids me at lunch, not coming close to the line if there's even a slight chance that he could end up standing close to me.

The staring across the cafeteria doesn't stop however. Every lunchtime, on the remaining three days of this school week, I can feel his eyes on me. For some reason, I can't stop myself from looking up at him, just as I did the first two days. I only allow myself a few seconds of staring back, before I lower my head and gaze down at my book.

There are no incidents with anyone else during school. No vandalism to my locker or bike, no insulting notes left somewhere for me to find. I'm shocked about this. Usually I have more than two things a week happen to me. I guess the humiliation on Monday was enough for them, at least for this week. I should be grateful, but it just worries me. What does this entail for me in the near future?

To be honest, the week is quite uneventful. At school, and at home. Well, this is a fact, until Saturday evening.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Saturday 22 April 2017_

I wake on Saturday with a plan to do my chores, as well as anything else my mother may need, and then go to my meadow. After I've fully woken, and allowed my mind to catch up with the present reality, I realise that I can't do that. My meadow is an impossible dream now. It's unreachable. Unattainable.

This realisation sets my mood for the rest of the day, to one of misery.

I get dressed for the day, pulling on a pair of black Nike sweatpants, a black spaghetti-strap tank top and a thin grey oversized t-shirt, that's so oversized, it hangs off of one shoulder. I throw my hair up into a messy ponytail, not really caring about how it turns out. I'm going to be stuck indoors all day anyway, so what's the point?

I walk down stairs. Actually, it's more of a shuffle. I'm too unmotivated to pick my feet up properly. I reach the bottom of the stairs, just in time to see my mother putting on her beige trench coat... over her work clothes?

She looks up when the weight of my foot causes the bottom step underneath me to creak, a scowl on her face. "I'm running late," she huffs as she struggles with one of the buttons of her coat.

"O-kay..." I say slowly, thoroughly confused. "Late for what?" I ask when she remains silent, still fumbling with the button.

She sighs heavily, halting her movements to look up at me, a frown weighing down her features. "My new boss has asked, well, she's actually _demanded_ that we all go into work today," she complains.

"Today? But it's a Saturday. You never work on a Saturday," I comment. I should know. I am at her beckon call every Saturday, retrieving and doing anything and everything she asks for, on top of my usual chores.

"Yes. I know that, Isabella," she says sharply, her frown deepening. "But our _new_ boss would like to get to know us better. I just think it's a ploy to get us all under one roof, so she can make a decision on who to keep and who to let go," she says, her voice growing tight as she quietens noticeably at the end.

"What? So you may lose your job?" I question, worriedly biting my lip

"It's possible," she says before screeching, "AHA!" as the button fastens into place. "Right, I've got to go," she announces, scrambling for her purse and keys, before she swings open the door and leaves without another word.

I sigh as I walk into the kitchen, to search the cupboards for something to eat. My mind is preoccupied as I toast a slice of bread. What if my mother loses her job? Where will that put us? She's had the same job for as long as I can remember. It's all she knows, being a receptionist at a law firm in Port Angeles.

She's definitely going to be late. It's already 8:30AM and it takes an hour, on average, to drive from here to her place of work. I would _not _want to be in my mother's shoes when she steps foot in that building.

After eating my breakfast, I do my usual Saturday chores. Somehow, I finish earlier than my average time on a Saturday. A whole hour and a half earlier, to be exact. By midday I have cleaned all that I need to, wiped, mopped and dusted everything that is expected of me. It usually take me longer, because I always have my mother nagging me every so often, interrupting my progress whenever she wants something. Whether that be some food, or a glass - sometimes, if not most of the time, a _bottle_ \- of wine.

Normally, once I've completed my Saturday morning chores, I escape to my meadow. It's the highlight of my day, because I know that I have a few hours to myself, in the peace and quiet, before I have to return home and do the last remaining chores on my to-do list.

This is the first Saturday in a while where I have more time than normal to myself, and I can't do the one thing I want to do. Escape.

I spend the next hour lounging around the house. I try watching some TV, but can't get into anything. I try having a nap, but sleep doesn't claim me. I end up sat at our dining room table, playing Solitaire with a pack of cards, bored out of my mind. I haven't played this shit in so long, I can't even remember the rules. _Is it black to red? Or is it matching suits?_

I huff, angrily scooping up the cards into a pile. I glance out of the window that lines one end of the table, which is pressed up against the wall. The sun is shining brightly, and the sky is clear, except for the odd cloud disrupting the beautiful blue. I decide to get some fresh air, and quickly make my way upstairs to my room. I stuff my feet into a random pair of Converse high tops, which end up being my baby blue ones - possibly my brightest pair of shoes. I pick up the book I am currently reading, as well as another one, and a fleece blanket, before I rush down the stairs.

As soon as I step out of the back door, I realise that the appearance of the sun is a tad misleading today. The air is chilly, that biting spring breeze still making itself known. It's easy to tell that it's not summer just yet, despite the warmer weather over the past few days.

I walk over to the old hammock that sits at the end of our garden, under a tall tree with overhanging branches. They stretch out like the bony fingers of a witch, creating a claw of sorts. Masses of green leaves grow from the branches, helping it appear less menacing. It's the perfect shade for when the sun is at its highest in the sky, and glares directly onto the hammock.

I wrap myself in the blanket, glad I thought to bring it out with me. I sit on the hammock, and swing my legs up so I can lie down in the cocooning, striped material. After situating myself in a comfortable position, I remove my bookmark and begin to read. I finish my current book in no time, and then go on to the second book I picked up, happy I thought to bring this out, too.

This one is **_The Fault In Our Stars_** by John Green. I must have read this book about fifteen times now, and I cry like a baby every time. Today seems like a good day for a cry. I'm in a disheartened mood as it is, so it's not like I'll be ruining the atmosphere around me in any way.

After a few hours of reading, I decide to take a break. I place the book next to me and pull the blanket tighter around my body. The air has gotten colder, the breeze slightly stronger.

If I was in my meadow, this breeze would be perfect. The ground at my meadow is at a certain level, which I'm assuming is lower than here, where the breeze rests higher than ground level. So when I lie down, it blows over me without causing me to freeze. It's refreshing, even when it's chillier, like today.

My meadow... I'll never forget the pure beauty of the place, even if I never manage to go again. It will always be my sanctuary, my place of peace and solitude. Without it, I'll never have that again. I'll never be completely at peace. I'll never find somewhere like it, because there is no place like it. It's a one of a kind masterpiece.

And now it's gone. I can't go there again. One reason being, I'd have to trespass in order to reach it, which I'd rather not be caught doing again. The humiliation the first time was enough to deter me from that forever.

Since that dreadful day last weekend, when I stepped out of the tree line and realised what was happening, my thoughts have been continuously returning to my meadow. The inner pull towards it still remains. I'd give anything to be able to cut the emotional ties that bind me to it. But I also thrive on that last, imaginative connection I have left. It's the only thing keeping me sane, though it simultaneously drives me crazy.

I must doze off during the daydreams of my meadow, because some time later, I'm startled awake by a venomous hiss in my ear.

"Wake up!" the voice hisses. "Wake up, you stupid girl."

**A/N: Sorry about the cliffy! Due to my cutting of chapters, these were necessary. But have no fear; I'll be back on Friday with a direct follow up from this chapter!****Thanks for reading! Let me know you _are_ reading by leaving a review! I'd really appreciate it! See you Friday!**


	9. Chapter 9:'Where do I even begin' (BPOV)

**A/N: Hello again! Last upload of the week. There isn't a POV in the title because I ran out of room. Oops. It is below though. You'll see it. I've not had any reviews this week... is there anything I can improve? I hope people are liking my story.**

**This chapter is longer than my recent ones, but I still hope you enjoy!**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_I must doze off during the daydreams of my meadow, because some time later, I'm startled awake by a venomous hiss in my ear._

_"Wake up!" the voice hisses. "Wake up, you stupid girl."_

Chapter Nine: 'Where do I even begin?' (Bella POV)

_Saturday 22 April 2017_

Confused and disoriented, I slowly open my eyes, blinking the heaviness from them. At first, all I see is the leaves of the tree that hangs over me. Evening is well underway, the sky at that bright blue-purple stage, peeking through the small gaps between the leaves.

I'm only awake for a few seconds, staring up at the tree and sky above me, before the voice is attacking me again. "Isabella! Wake up. NOW!"

Before I can look to my left - where the voice, that I now know belongs to my mother, is coming from - my view changes, rapidly tipping as I am forcefully swung to my left. I topple over the side of the hammock, slamming into the grass covered floor. It feels as hard as stone, and as luck - _or unluck _\- would have it, I land on my left side. On my bruised arm.

The bruise itself has changed over the course of this week, now a green blotch with dots of brown incorporated into it, but the pain hasn't lessened much. It no longer aches when I move it, like it did in the beginning. But if it's knocked at all, just like now, it throbs, the flesh still tender.

I cry out in pain, squeezing my eyes closed tightly, as my arm takes the brunt of the fall. Instinctively, I roll onto my back, alleviating the pain from my arm, but not eliminating it completely. It pulses sporadically, an overpowering heaviness setting into the top of the limb.

I open my eyes, only to watch as my mother crouches down beside me, an unapologetic look on her face. "Are you awake _now_?" she asks callously. I hold back my impulsive, sarcastic remarks to her question, instead offering a weak, fearful nod.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice as quiet as a mouse. Renee rolls her eyes, standing up before brushing her hands down her trousers, as if they managed to collect dirt in the short amount of time she was close to the ground.

"Late. I expected to come home and have dinner waiting for me. But instead you chose to have a _nap. _Absolutely unacceptable behaviour. You do realise you have other chores left to do? Chores that should have been dealt with hours ago. Now _I_ have to be the one to do them," she says.

_Wow. I must've slept for a while._ It couldn't have been any later then mid afternoon when I dozed off. I wouldn't know the exact time, because I stupidly left my phone inside.

Renee turns after her declaration, and begins walking towards the house. I stumble in my struggle to stand, attempting to use the hammock, which fails because of its instability. It is a hanging piece of fabric, after all. I eventually get onto my feet, and run after my mom.

"No. You don't have to. I will," I call out as I catch up with her. She spins on the spot, stopping so suddenly that I almost run right into her. Her expression is murderous. Lethal. It's so intense that I cower slightly, taking an instinctual step back.

"You will do no such thing bec-" she starts to argue, but I interrupt her, eager to right my wrong.

"It's okay. Seriously. I'll just change out of my clothes and then I'll do it all," I say, motioning to my grass-stained outfit. "Let me just grab m-" I begin to say that I'll quickly fetch my books and blanket, as I slowly start to turn towards the hammock behind me.

But I don't get the chance. My mom stops me, holding me into place with a tight, restricting grip. Her fingers wrap around my bony left wrist, squeezing to intentionally cause me pain no doubt. I fight the pained expression trying to show itself on my face. I don't want to give her the satisfaction.

She yanks me closer to her, away from my destination, hurting my already damaged arm in the process. Her face is now directly in front of mine, her breath, which contains a hint of alcohol, blowing over me. "You. Will. Do. No. Such. Thing," she says firmly, repeating her last statement, the one she began with before I'd interrupted her.

She now continues with what she was going to say earlier... at least I think so. "You will not be doing _any_ of what you should have _all ready_ done, because you will not be entering my house tonight." Her following smirk is evil. A smirk fit for the Devil himself.

"Wh... Huh?" I ask, totally befuddled.

"You. Will. Not. Be. Entering. My. House. Tonight." she says again, pronouncing each word in a mocking manner, as if I'm incapable of understanding English.

"What do you mean? Why?" I question desperately.

"You will stay outside until morning. If you think being out here is so great, and that hammock is so comfy, then you can stay out here all night and sleep in it," she says. She then let's go of my wrist and makes her way towards the back door. I trip and stumble behind her, trying to stay close enough so that I can slip inside behind her.

She stops at the back door, that is currently open ajar, placing her hand against it as she turns to look at me. "I mean it, Isabella. You can stay out here."

"Wait!" I plead as she goes to step indoors. "Please don't leave me out here. It's cold. And what about dinner? I haven't eaten anything since breakfast," I say, mentally kicking myself for skipping lunch. _Why do my decisions always seem to come back and bite me in the ass?_

"This is your fault, not mine. You chose to sleep out here, so you will continue to do so all night. You seemed perfectly fine before I woke you, so the blanket should suffice. As for your dinner, I couldn't really care less. You were quite happy to let me go hungry tonight, so now you can. If it troubles you so much, order a pizza or something," she suggests.

"But I don't have any money out here," I argue.

"Not my problem," she says uncaringly, before she steps over the threshold. I'm so shocked, so stunned by tonight's turn of events, that I stay frozen in place. I don't try fighting against the door as she enters. I don't use that as my opportunity to slip inside.

I just don't react.

Not until the sound of the back door lock sliding into place echos in my ears. Then I react. I hurl myself forward, and begin banging on the door with my fists, ignoring the protests of my sore arm.

She doesn't come to the door as I continue to hit and kick at it, crying and screaming for her to let me in. After about five minutes of this, I try the same routine, but against the back windows. There is one to my right, which is the same window I looked out of earlier, in the dining room. After no luck from banging on that one, I go to the only other window on the back of the house. The one at the back of the living room. I thump my hands against it for a while, the impact of my abuse over the last however long I've been locked out so far causing intense aching in my hands, my knuckles and the outer sides of my fists are red and slightly swollen.

Just when I'm about to give up, out of breath and in a great deal of pain, I see the curtain flutter. Delight spreads through me, as it seems Renee is answering my cries of desperation. _Maybe she does have a conscience_. Her face comes into view first, her expression bored and slightly pissed off. She places a sheet of paper against the window, black ink in her handwriting branding it.

**_Go to the front door_**

With a large, tired smile on my face, I nod eagerly, before practically skipping round to the front of the house. I sprint up the porch steps and wait for her to open the door. I wait and I wait, but nothing happens. She doesn't come. That's when I notice it. Resting on the welcome mat at my feet, lies my phone.

Realisation sets in, and my heart drops to my stomach. Tears spring to eyes, threatening to spill over. I slowly bend to pick it up. _Oh_. This is why she wanted me to come to the front, so she could give me my phone. _What? No money? _No. Of course she wouldn't give me any money. For one, she can't get access to my own personal stash of money, seeing as I hold the only key to my chest around my neck. And two, that would be too easy, wouldn't it? Not providing me with any cash means she is taking the power of feeding myself away from me. It's further punishment.

An anger slowly forms in my chest, like a tightly wound ball that is about to burst. It grows by the second, gaining in intensity, until I'm all but smashing the door down. My battered fists bang repeatedly against the door, my voice echoing into the night as I holler and shout at the top of my lungs, demanding to be let inside. My muscles grow tired and my voice begins to weaken, but I don't allow either of these challenges to deter me from my rage fueled attack.

My phone pings on the floor, where I had dropped it just before I began my assault on the door. With ragged breaths, I bend to pick it up again. I have one new message from my mother. Anger has consumed every part of my being, but I manage to stop my hands from trembling long enough to read the message.

**Stop making so much noise. Think of our neighbours.**

My anger immediately dissipates. At least for now. I _do_ think of our neighbours, and what scenarios they must be conjuring up in their minds at this second. It's enough to horrify me. My mother knows exactly how to stop me, how to silence me. I don't want people finding out what happens here, and this scene I'm creating doesn't help that.

With a sigh of indignation, I trudge my way back down the steps and round to the backyard. I stop and stare at the hammock for a few minutes, mortified that this will be my bed for tonight. My stomach growls loudly, reminding me of my food shortage. I sigh in defeat as I climb onto the hammock, trying to get comfy in the cold of the night, with no pillow to rest my head on. I wrap myself with the blanket, wishing I'd brought my hoodie out with me as I attempt to drift off.

My eyes stare into the trees, my mind creating a portfolio of menacing creatures that could be hiding in the dark, each one much scarier than the last. I gulp in fear. This is so dangerous. I'm in a very vulnerable position. Anything or anyone could come out of the tree line and take me. With uneven breaths and a shaking form, I roll to my left, my back to the trees, and try to nod off. My weight rests on my bad arm, but that does little to convince me to turn onto my other side. I'd rather face the pain then face the black of the woods.

Sleep is very scarce Saturday night.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Sunday 23 April 2017_

After falling asleep hours into the night, I wake sometime on Sunday morning in an abundance of pain. My throat is the first thing I notice. It's raw and scratchy, and it constricts in protest as I swallow due to a dry mouth when I wake up.

Next, I notice my hands. As I go to swing my legs over the side of the hammock and sit up, therefore having to use my arms and hands as support, I feel an excruciating pulling sensation running up the sides of them. I instantly look down at my hands, which are stuck in the form of a fist due to cramping. My knuckles are split and red, dried blood that I hadn't noticed last night staining my skin. I tilt my hands, so my closed off palms are facing the sky, to make it easier to inspect the sides of my hands.

The skin covering my hands, from my pinkie knuckle to the inner side of my wrist, is also bright red but with blotches of purple joining the decoration. My hands are swollen along the sides, reminding me of one of those latex gloves doctors use blown up like a balloon.

I cringe at the sight, appalled by what state my hands are in. There is no way I'll be able to write, so I don't know how in hell I'll be able to do any work at school tomorrow. Today will have to be spent on treating my wounds, readying them for a harrowing day of use tomorrow.

I check my phone, my painful hands causing me bother as I press the button that illuminates the screen. 8:45AM. And I see that I have 1 new message from my mother, sent at 8:04AM.

**Back door is now open. When you come in don't bother talking to me. Get some food and then leave me alone.**

_Fine by me_, I think as I hop off the hammock, gingerly collecting all my belongings. _At least she hasn't banned me from getting any food today._ I hear my stomach growl just at the thought of something to eat.

Rushing to the back door, I hurriedly let myself in, sighing in relief as the warm air of the house touches my icy cold skin. Today isn't the warmest outside. When I woke, I was met with a view of the sky, blanketed in a thick coat of clouds. I wouldn't be surprised if I end up sick after last night.

Upon entering the house, I walk directly into the living room. Our house has two living areas. One at the back of the house, with a small TV, a collection of smaller sofas, and a desk beside the back door. And another at the front of the house, with a large, flat screen TV. That is the one we used the most when my father was alive. That one was always the 'family room'.

Now, I tend to stick to the back room, while my mom dominates the former family room. The first thing I do is rush upstairs, not wanting to risk the chance of running into my mother. The TV in the front room is loud, a chorus of blasting explosions coming from behind the closed door, so I assume she's in there.

I briskly enter my bedroom, accidently slamming the door shut in my haste to get out of these freezing clothes. In a less dire situation, I would have frozen in place, listening for any signs that my mother heard the unnecessary force I used to close my door, but it's not important at this very moment.

I practically rip the clothes from my body as soon as my hands are free. They ache due to my actions, but I'm too focused on getting warm to care. I pick up the first knitted item my hands can find.

I end up wearing another pair of black sweatpants and a black chunky knitted turtleneck cable sweater. I'm still cold after putting these on, so I also put on a pair of black fleecy bed socks, and just to be safe, I slip a black slouchy beanie hat onto my head. As I look down at myself, I realise just how much black clothing I own. _Is this amount normal for a sixteen year old girl?_ I look like the perfect candidate for a robbery, all I need is a black bandanna or some form of mask to hide my face and I'm all set.

Starting to feel a little warmer, I head back down to the kitchen in search of food. I cook myself some bacon - lots and lots of bacon. I pile it in between two slices of toast and devour it in no time, gulping down a pint of water, and then the same amount of orange juice afterwards. I then make myself a hot cup of tea, needing something more to warm me up.

Full and satisfied, for now, I sit at the breakfast table in the kitchen. My swollen and bruised hands are wrapped around the cup, the heat seeping into my skin. It feels soothing. My hands shake as I raise the cup to my lips. I close my eyes as I take a sip, sighing as the warm liquid slides down my throat, somehow helping the raw pain inside.

I rest the cup back down on the table, keeping my hands firmly wrapped around it. I turn my head to the right and stare out the window. The tree that stands alone in our front yard catches my attention, and that's when I realise... It stands directly outside of my bedroom window, so, I could've climbed up it and snuck into the house last night! _Fuck! _How did I not see that last night when I went to the front?

I hit the table angrily, not thinking of the consequences beforehand. The side of my hand, the part that I just hit against the table and also used as a tool for my anger last night, bursts with pain. I cry out quietly, clutching my hand to my chest as I scrunch my eyes up tightly in pain.

"Fuck!" I whisper to myself. I tentatively pull my hand away from my chest, to inspect the damage. It hasn't changed at all, since my last inspection. They are still swollen, red and dotted with dried blood. I only now realise that I didn't even try and clean it off before eating. _Gross_.

With a sigh of reluctancy at what I have to do next, I quickly gulp the rest of my tea down and force myself to walk back upstairs and into the bathroom. After pulling the first aid kit from the cupboard under the sink, I look at what I have to work with.

First, I carefully wipe at my knuckles with warm water and a small amount of soap, to clean them and any open wounds. It stings but isn't as bad as the throbbing. Once the dried blood is cleaned off, I can see that the damage to cause the bleeding isn't major, and will probably - and hopefully - heal itself over time.

Next I look at the sides of my hands. I have no idea how to handle this. It looks appalling; all bruised and swollen. Where do I even begin?

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Monday 24 April 2017_

I've decided to walk to school today. My hands are a lot better than yesterday, but to assure they'll be good to go in lessons today, I've decided to forego using my bicycle. Holding the handle bars would be pushing too far, I think.

My knuckles are still red, but it wouldn't be noticeable unless someone was to purposely look at my hands. The sides are still a little swollen, but the redness and bruising has faded so that the damage is less obvious.

Renee was gone when I woke up this morning. _No surprise there_. I guess she's kept her job after all. I realised as I looked out of my window earlier this morning, and saw her car gone, that I never found out if she had been fired or not. My time was otherwise occupied, what with beating the doors and windows like they were punching bags.

Her unannounced absence gave me the perfect chance to log my injuries from over the weekend. Even though my hands were much better in regards to their appearance, I still had the bloody bandages and grass stained clothes as evidence, as well as the unforgettable memories. So, I spent most of my time before school taking the necessary photographs with my polaroid phone case, and labelling them, as well as writing in my log book all that happened since Saturday evening.

After I'd finished doing all of that, I hurriedly got showered and dressed, before grabbing an apple on my way out the door.

I don't have to rush, but I can't dawdle either. I walk leisurely to school, not speculating about anything that may happen today. My mind has been clear of Edward for most of the weekend, but I know as soon as I step foot in that building, I'll be worrying over how he'll treat me since last week. I wouldn't mind if he continued with his attitude from the end of last week, avoiding me at all costs. It would make my life much easier.

As I step into the school, I know immediately that this week isn't going to begin well for me. People stare. I don't disappear as I lower my head, like I usually do. If anything, doing so makes the staring worse. _Every single_ person I pass gawks at me with judgment in their eyes, with secretive smirks on their faces.

Just as I start to wonder what has caused the scrutiny, I am stopped dead in my tracks. I've just reached the corridor that houses my locker. Stuck on every available surface - every locker, blank wall or door - is the same poster. It has a drawing of a stick person with an emoji in place of the head. It's a 'crazy' person emoji, that has the emoticon's finger orbitting his temple - the sign for a screw loose. It's obvious, just by this image, what the creator is trying to say. But if that isn't enough, lining the top and bottom of the poster, is the message:

**BELLA SWAN**

**FORKS'ES FRUITLOOP**

The words are displayed in bold black letters, the counter part of the letters A, P, O, and B are filled in black.

I feel angry at first, urged to run through the hall and rip down every poster in sight. But, as I quickly walk to my locker with my head lowered as far as physically possible, I start to see the humour in the situation. I come to a stop in front of my locker, where I am faced with another one of the posters. I read it again.

_Forks'es...?_ I cannot even comprehend how someone thought this was correct. Whoever created it obviously didn't think to check before printing them all out and plastering them everywhere.

My giggling starts off small, my attempts to keep it quiet working. However, as I read and reread the words on the poster, I can't hold in the bellowing guffaws threatening to burst free. They tumble out of my mouth, unwelcome, but I can't find it in me to care. My laughs drag more attention to me, but I am too far gone, the laughs are uncontrollable now. I continue to laugh as I finally get the things I need out of my locker and walk to my first class.

By the time I reach my English class, my laughing has resided back to giggling. People continue to stare, and point, and some even laugh. I choose to ignore them, still in my own little world of entertainment, giggling and smiling at the thought of the statement that was meant to hurt me. Instead, the attempt to do so backfired, and actually gave me a much needed laugh. I should really be thanking whoever put the posters together.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

When I enter the cafeteria a few hours later, I feel exhausted. My classes so far have been filled with snide comments thrown my way, along with ridiculously obvious mocking. I've been greeted with a pile of those damn posters on my desk in every single class since English. I've seen that emoji so many times, that I'll probably be dreaming about it tonight. That's if I can sleep.

Edward was acting strange in Biology. I couldn't help but look over at him when he entered, and when I did, I noticed him acting a lot like I do. His head was lowered, his hands gripping the straps of his bag, showing his agitation. He didn't meet anyone's eyes as he quickly went to his desk. He even ignored Jessica and Lauren's attempts at interacting with him.

It doesn't bother me. What he does has no affect on me at all. I don't care what has upset him, or what has gotten him to act this way. I shouldn't care. I _don't_ care!

As I step foot in the cafeteria, all eyes turn to me. It's like people were just waiting for me to appear. The whispering begins, then comes the pointing. And finally, the giggling and chuckling. I roll my eyes and start to walk to the lunch line, determined to grab some food and go sit by myself, at my usual table.

I had contemplated hiding in the library this lunch. I haven't been there since last week. But after thinking about it, I've decided against it. Hiding away like that would show them that I'm affected by these posters, right? It would be completely pointless, and just fuel their want to do something like this again.

I'm about three tables away from the line when I notice people aren't just staring at _me_ and finding amusement. They are alternating their glances between me and their tables. I stop walking towards the line, and instead make my way over to the nearest table, full of chuckling Freshmans.

Nudging my way between two of them, I look down at the table and see several of the posters spread out across it. I hurry to the next table, this one surrounded by Seniors. After pushing two shrieking girls out of the way, I see that this table is also covered in copies of the poster.

The laughing increases as people watch my distress, as I frantically look around at the other tables. I come to the conclusion that every table has a bunch of the posters on, and I haven't even had to go to them all to know this. After the first few, it was pretty clear.

My eyes narrow as I continue to stare at the posters on the table close by. Anger. That's all I feel. I'm not embarrassed or upset. I can't find any amusement in this anymore, either. I'm nothing but angry. Seething at everyone in this room.

Snatching up one of the posters from the nearest table, I spin on my heel, eyes zoning in on the center table. The whole group is sat around it, except Edward. He's absent, for some reason that doesn't really matter right now. Every one of them, even the new girl, Alice, is evidently amused at my expense.

They are all either smirking, grinning widely, or sniggering at me. My anger builds at the sight. I have no inhibitions as I march towards them. The laughter filling the room immediately dissolves as I draw closer to the center table. It seems people's curiosity is more important than making fun of me.

I storm up to them, placing myself between Tyler and Lauren, opposite Rosalie. Looking her dead in the eye, for I know she's the main instigator of this prank - she almost always is - I slam the poster onto the table. Hard. I feel the pulse of pain it causes in my hands. I stare into her eyes for a second, wanting to show her how pissed off I truly am.

Rosalie being Rosalie, she doesn't react to my sudden burst of anger. She looks at me blankly, her arms crossed over her chest and no expression on her face. She looks completely unfazed.

My anger continues to build, her indifference only adding to my raging emotions. My hands clench and release repeatedly at my sides, the pain in my knuckles making my movements slower than normal. My jaw tenses as my anger hits it's pique. Just as I am about to turn and walk away, sensing that I need to get away and calm down, Rosalie smirks. It's the first bit of emotion she's shown since I arrived beside her table.

The smug look slowly creeping onto her face is unbearable to watch. Before I really think it through, I say what I first thought of the stupid, immature posters. "Just to let whoever wrote this know, it's wrong. It should be Forks', _without _the 'es'." I keep my eyes locked with Rosalie's as I speak, searching for any change in her expression.

I turn away, satisfied when I see the slight twitch of her left eye. I remember from my time of hanging around with this group, that the twitch is unavoidable for Rosalie when she's peeved about something.

Before I am even a meter away from the table, she stops me, speaking loudly for all to hear. "Excuse me, but you must've mistaken me for someone who actually gives a shit."

I turn to face Rosalie, who still has her arms crossed over her chest, but now has a scowl on her face. Trying to fight the smirk that is close to appearing, I arch an eyebrow. "I'm assuming it was you then?" I ask. When I get no response from her, I let the smirk through and slowly walk towards her, stopping in between Tyler and Lauren again.

Everyone is watching our exchange in silence. You could hear a pin drop as I walk towards the table. Acting as confidently as I can, I lean forward gradually, far enough to firmly plant my hands onto the table top. My eyes remain on Rosalie the entire time. I am now bent forward slightly, my eyes almost on level with hers.

"Here's the thing Rosalie, if you're trying to be a smart ass, first you have to be smart, otherwise you're just an ass."

And then I turn and walk away. People gasp, while others laugh quietly, not wanting to face the wrath of Rosalie, but still unable to stop their natural reactions. I continue walking away, heading for the cafeteria doors. I don't feel like sitting in the same room as these people. They all make me sick.

I feel happy with myself, proud that I stood up to the blonde bitch. But that happiness doesn't last long.

"NOW!" I hear her holler from behind me. Before I can turn back around, to see what she's going on about, two students who are strategically stood at either side of the cafeteria's double doors pull on ropes that are set up for some strange reason.

A large banner, stretching across the top of the doors, drops down from the ceiling. It's a blown up version of the posters, with the words in the center and different emojis, all indicating 'lunatic', at the sides.

I'm speechless. It all happens in slow motion to me. I did not expect this. Not for one minute did I think they'd be capable of doing this. How did they even set this up without a member of school staff finding out? Or are they in on it, too?

I'm unsure of what to do. The laughter starts up again, only this time it's ten times louder. The mocking is aimed at me in tenfold. All the pride and bravery from moments ago vanishes, until I'm left shaking and upset, tears pooling in my eyes.

I do the only thing I can think of. I run.

I run as fast as I can out of the cafeteria doors. There's only two places I can go: the toilets, or the library. I don't care which one I end up in, I just know that I have to get away before someone sees me upset and affected by this. I hate giving them ammunition.

However, my plan doesn't play out well - _then again, when does it ever?_ Just as I reach the end of the first hall in my escape from the cafeteria, turning right, I crash into someone. They are on their way to the cafeteria it seems. As our bodies collide, the person instantly wraps their fingers around my arms, holding me up and preventing me from falling, which would have been inevitable otherwise.

I keep my head low as the pressure of my tears grows stronger. All I want is to get far away from everyone as quickly as I can.

"Sorry," I mumble to the person, as I try to pull away, but they don't let go. If anything, their grip tightens.

"B-bella?"

**A/N: Who do you think it is?**

**I'll be back Monday with the answer! Please leave a review! **


	10. Chapter 10: 'Duly noted' (BPOV)

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_I do the only thing I can think of. I run._

_I run as fast as I can out of the cafeteria doors. There's only two places I can go: the toilets, or the library. I don't care which one I end up in, I just know that I have to get away before someone sees me upset and affected by this. I hate giving them ammunition._

_However, my plan doesn't play out well - _then again, when does it ever? _Just as I reach the end of the first hall in my escape from the cafeteria, turning right, I crash into someone. They are on their way to the cafeteria it seems. As our bodies collide, the person instantly wraps their fingers around my arms, holding me up and preventing me from falling, which would have been inevitable otherwise._

_I keep my head low as the pressure of my tears grows stronger. All I want is to get far away from everyone as quickly as I can._

_"Sorry," I mumble to the person, as I try to pull away, but they don't let go. If anything, their grip tightens._

_"B-bella?"_

Chapter Ten: 'Duly noted' (Bella POV)

_Monday 24 April 2017_

The nervous voice of the person still holding me sounds all too familiar. My head whips up to see if my guess is correct. It is. Edward is the person I collided with, and he is the one still stopping me from leaving. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" he asks, the nervousness giving way for concern.

And it's genuine. He has genuine concern for my well being. This only makes me want to cry harder. I have to get away.

"I... I'm... I have to go," I finally say, before yanking my arms from his grasp and running down the hall.

I end up in the library. I barely choke out a "hello" to a concerned looking Mrs. Jensen, before collapsing onto the floor in my secluded corner of the library.

I finally allow myself to cry quietly, burying my head into my hands. I don't know what to do. It's never going to stop. These constant attacks on me will continue for as long as I have to endure coming to this hell hole. I thought I could handle them. I thought I had found a way to ignore the stupid pranks and jokes.

I guess not. Today proves I'm not as strong as I thought I was. Today proves that I'm weak. I'll never be able to defend myself against someone like Rosalie Hale. Look at what she orchestrated today? The posters and then the _banner_?! How am I meant to ignore that? Easy answer: I can't. No one could.

I pick my head up from my hands and lean back against the wall behind me. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I look at nothing in particular in the space ahead of me, as I reach up with my right hand to play with my locket.

I feel numb. Emotionless now. _Is that good or bad?_

Mrs. Jensen pokes her head around the bookcase to my left, asking if I'm okay. I tell her that I am, that I'm just being silly. It may not seem like the case to me, but to anyone else, I could be overreacting. She looks apprehensive, but concedes and leaves me alone.

I close my eyes and that's how I stay for the next five minutes or so. I'm happy to stay like this for the remainder of lunch. I might even stay here for the remainder of the day. Alone.

Others don't have the same plan for me, unfortunately.

A throat clearing startles me. My eyes snap open. Edward is stood at the end of the bookcase that's to my left, close to where Mrs. Jensen poked her head around. "Hi," he says quietly, looking down at me, a nervousness in his green gaze.

I frown and glance away from him, my stubbornness and natural reaction to him making an appearance. I don't say "hello" back. I just ignore him. He sighs, and walks towards me, stopping directly in front of me. From my current position, looking out at my feet, I can see his legs in front of them. The soles of my shoes are almost touching his trousers.

He seems to wait for a moment, maybe to see if I'll look up or anything. I don't. Instead, I continue to be rude and ignore him. Eventually, he lifts his left foot slightly off of the floor, and taps the side of my right shoe with it.

"Move over," he demands in a soft, hushed voice. At first I'm confused, and reluctant. When he doesn't show any sign of giving up, I huff as I bum shuffle to my left, until my side is pressed up against the bookshelves.

He thanks me quietly and sits himself down beside me, stretching his legs out in front of him, just like I have. We are sat side by side, in identical positions. I keep my act up, not turning to look at him, even when I feel his eyes on the side of my face.

Eventually he begins moving, opening his bag up, which is making a lot of noise, crinkling mostly, as he digs around inside of it. "Can we eat in here?" he asks, leaning over slightly to whisper his question in my ear. The skin of my ear and neck where his hot breath brushes erupts into tiny goosebumps. I blush slightly at my involuntary reaction to his whisper: my escalated heart rate and suddenly damp palms.

I shrug in response, giving him no verbal reply.

"Okay then," he says after a silent pause. He pulls something from the front of his bag, before stretching forward to place it by his feet. After leaning back against the wall behind us, he sighs happily, getting comfortable by wriggling around on the floor. Every time he moves to the left, he bumps into me. I'm about to tell him to quit it and go away, but he stops just before I get the chance.

I stealthily watch out the corner of my eye as he opens the triangular box and pulls out half a sandwich. My eyes quickly move away at the sight, not wanting to torture myself further. I am very hungry now that I realise I never made it to the lunch line to get some food. Obviously Edward did, because that is one of the sandwiches that the school sells.

"Here. Take this," I hear him say, right before half of a sandwich appears in front of me. I turn my head sharply to face Edward, not prepared for how close he is. My nose touches his, and after only a second of contact, we both put some distance between us. I clear my throat while Edward averts his eyes briefly, both of us blushing a bit.

After taking a deep breath in, and releasing it slowly, he looks back into my eyes. He smiles softly as he urges the sandwich close to me again. "Take it," he demands.

"What? No, it's yours," I protest, pushing his hand away.

"When someone offers you something, the kind thing to do is accept it without protesting," he says, his small soft smile turning into a smirk. I stare at him, my mouth gaping open slightly. After a while, it's obvious I'm not going to take it. He sighs and rolls his eyes, before tilting his head to the side a bit. "Bella," he begins, his voice low and smooth. It's the first time I've heard this tone of voice from him, and I'm momentarily stunned. "Will you _please_ take the food?" he begs.

Our eyes are locked, and for some reason, I'm unwilling to remove my gaze from his. He raises an eyebrow and I snap out of my weird trance, shaking my head to dispel whatever has come over me. _Stupid Bella. Stop staring like a creep._

"Thank you," I concede quietly, looking down at his offering as I tentatively take it from his hand. I check the filling of the sandwich, before raising it to my mouth. I'm just about to take a bite when Edward asks something I was not expecting, ceasing my movements.

"What happened to your hands? You look like you went a round of bare knuckle fighting."

"I... Um... I f-fell," I answer, stuttering like a guilty suspect under interrogation, giving him the first excuse that came to mind.

"You fell? And it caused _that_?" he asks disbelievingly.

My emotions from earlier return instantly. My head whips to the side, my cheeks burning with anger. "Are you calling me a liar?" I ask defensively. _Of course he's calling me a liar. Just look at the mess my hands are in._

"Huh? No! What?! No, I'm not. I just... _shit_. I was only making conversation," he says, his voice slightly panicky.

"No, you weren't. You were being nosy?" I argue back, turning my head to face the bookcase to my left, giving Edward a view of the back of my head. I take a large bite out of the sandwich... the sandwich that Edward so kindly gave me half of. _Shit. What are you doing, Bella?_ I ask myself. All the anger immediately melts away.

I slowly turn my head back towards Edward, feeling rather guilty in this moment. He is sat with his head lowered, sulking into his food as he nibbles at the edge of his half of the sandwich we are sharing.

I sigh, rolling my eyes at what I'm about to do. "How did you know where to find me?" I ask in a voice that is forecably light, trying to initiate a conversation. Thinking back over the past week, I realise that I have never started a conversation with Edward. He's the one to always try. I push down the guilt that begins building inside of me.

_It doesn't matter. I'm better without friends, _I tell myself.

Edward raises his head to look at me, surprise evident in his features. "I... eer..." he starts to stutter. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. _Get_ _on with it._ "I don't know much about you, but I've seen you reading a lot so I figured I'd try here first?" he says, though it comes out as more of a question, like he's asking me if it's a good enough answer.

I nod silently, acknowledging his answer as I turn my head to look forward again. I take another bite and think over his words. Without looking at him, I ask, "Where would you have tried next, if I wasn't here?"

I see him turn his head to look at me out the corner of my eye, but I don't follow suit. I don't want to relive what happened a few minutes ago. It was awkward enough the first time. He hums while he thinks, and I find myself eager to know where he would've checked next.

"The gym?" he guesses unsurely.

My nose wrinkles immediately, causing him to laugh out loud. I'm glad no one comes here at lunch, at least not all that often. My secret hiding place wouldn't have been much of a secret anymore, if another student was in here, thanks to his laugh.

His laugh… _that's the first time I've heard him laugh._

"So... not a fan of sports then?" he asks. I can't help but notice the tone of genuine curiosity mixed in with the humour. I shake my head wordlessly.

"Duly noted," he replies, turning his face away from me as he takes another bite of his lunch. After finishing my lunch, I offer Edward a weak upturn of my lips. I wouldn't really call it a smile, nor a grimace. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps?

Feeling an awkward silence coming soon, I decide to end our interaction here and now. "I should get to class," I say as I attempt to stand. Given the small amount of space I have, and my naturally clumsy nature, doing so gracefully is well and truly impossible. I am almost to my feet when I stumble over my laces - they must have come loose without my knowledge - and begin to fall face first to the floor.

Edward is quick to catch me, preventing me from causing myself injury. He scrambles from his place on the floor, leaning forward to catch my upper body. I end up on my knees instead of on my face, which is a better outcome.

All would have been perfect after that; I would have thanked Edward and made my way to my next class. However, during his rescue, he accidently kicks his bag over, sending it's contents flying.

The reason for the amount of crinkling noise his bag made earlier becomes clear now. As his foot hits his bag, it topples over and a mountain of papers comes spilling out. Stick bodies topped with yellow heads on white paper covers the floor in front of me.

Edward tenses up beside me, his breathing audibly halting. With a shaking hand, I reach forward and pick up the top poster of the pile.

**BELLA SWAN**

**FORKS'ES FRUITLOOP**

My heart drops to my stomach as my eyes fill with more tears. _I'm so _sick_ of crying!_ Keeping the first poster in my hand, I reach down to pick up the rest, piling them in my hands.

I slowly stand up, trembling as I struggle to my feet. Edward doesn't even try and help me now, but he slowly rises, too. I can feel his gaze resting on me. My throat begins closing as a tear falls. I wipe it away angrily, before spinning on unbalanced feet to face him.

"It was _you_!" I seethe, pointing my finger at him. He holds his hands out in front of him, a sign of surrender.

"Bella..." he says slowly, cautiously. "Let me explain."

**A/N: So the... _interactions_ begin. I'm not going to call it a frienship or a relationship or whatever yet, because their _interactions _are only just beginning. I've been so excited to get to this part because from here on out we have more of Edward and Bella _together_. I realise now that it's been fairly slow paced up 'till now, with hardly any B and E time at all. But this is how I wanted to have my story. It's how I planned it.**

**There are so many fast paced romances in the twi-fic universe, and as much as I love them - which is _a LOT _\- I wanted this to be a little different. It is definitely a story that fits the friends-first trope, but I promise I plan for their relationship to advance to more eventually. You've just gotta stick with me for this story I have had, and am _still _having the pleasure of writing!**

**I'm slightly disappointed by the lack of reviews - though I am _extremely _grateful for the ones I have received up until now (thank you!) - but I am hoping that now more E and B interactions will be happening, that they will pick up some. If you don't want to leave a public review, then by all means, drop me a private message. I don't mind which.**

**Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll be back with the follow up to this cliffy (sorry not sorry) on Wednesday. See you all then!**


	11. Chapter 11: 'It wouldn't hurt' (BPOV)

**A/N: Thanks for my new review! It gave me peace of mind that people are enjoying this story. Carrying on straight from the last chapter... will she let him explain?**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_...during his rescue, he accidently kicks his bag over, sending it's contents flying.__The reason for the amount of crinkling noise his bag made earlier becomes clear now. As his foot hits his bag, it topples over and a mountain of papers comes spilling out. Stick bodies topped with yellow heads on white paper covers the floor in front of me._

_Edward tenses up beside me, his breathing audibly halting. With a shaking hand, I reach forward and pick up the top poster of the pile._

**_BELLA SWAN_**

**_FORKS'ES FRUITLOOP_**

_My heart drops to my stomach as my eyes fill with more tears. _I'm so _sick_ of crying!_ Keeping the first poster in my hand, I reach down to pick up the rest, piling them in my hands._

_I slowly stand up, trembling as I struggle to my feet. Edward doesn't even try and help me now, but he slowly rises, too. I can feel his gaze resting on me. My throat begins closing as a tear falls. I wipe it away angrily, before spinning on unbalanced feet to face him._

_"It was _you_!__" I seethe, pointing my finger at him. He holds his hands out in front of him, a sign of surrender._

_"Bella..." he says slowly, cautiously. "Let me explain."_

Chapter Eleven : 'It wouldn't hurt' (Bella POV)

_Monday 24 April 2017_

"Explain what? How you were the one that pulled this prank? That you were the one this _whole time? _I thought it was Rosalie and... and _them_. But it wasn't... it was _you_!" I laugh humorlessly at the end. I can't believe this! Actually, I can. I was right to give him the cold shoulder when he first arrived here. _Asshole!_

"Is that why you came here? Try to butter me up by offering me some food, make yourself out to be the good guy? And then what? Huh? Were you gonna come clean? Show me these and rub it in my face?" I hold up the posters in between us, waving them around in the air. I'm _so_ angry right now I could kill him. I'm so stupid. How did I not see this before? No one makes this much effort to speak to me. No one tries so hard to get my attention. I should've known.

Edward doesn't try and defend himself. He just stands in front of me, taking the accusations with his mouth hanging open wide, his emerald green eyes even wider.

"Oh, and let me guess? After you told me, I'd run out of here to be greeted with the entire student body laughing at me? Am I right? I bet they're out there right now, just waiting for _Batty Bella _to run right into the trap!" I'm almost shouting. Who cares if I'm in a library! I'm pissed off, and rightly so!

"You know what? I've had enough of people around here thinking they are better than me. You are all the same. Prank the weak one to make yourselves feel better. Try and break her down to give yourselves more power. Well guess what? It hasn't worked. You can shove your lame, pathetic, petty jokes where the sun don't shine. I've had this shit thrown at me for years and if you think _you _joining in will break me... you've got another thing coming." I'm definitely shouting now, as I shove the pile of papers into Edward's chest. He stumbles back slightly with the force, but continues to stare at me silently. The posters fall to the floor, landing haphazardly at his feet.

"I'm warning you now," I lean in to whisper to him, my voice laced with anger, "you stay the hell away from me! You got it? Don't talk to me, don't come near me. Don't even _look_ at me!"

I pull back, give him one final glare, before bending down to pick up my own bag. I don't offer him another moment of my time as I storm out of the library. To my surprise, no one is outside waiting to embarrass me further. That doesn't mean anything though. He still did it. And I made a fool of myself in the cafeteria when I blamed Rosalie. _Gah! I'm so fucking stupid!_

I put my bag onto my back and lower my head as I walk to my next class. My mind is reeling with this new revelation. Edward did it? A small, very miniscule part of me is doubtful. _Is he really capable of something like that?_ Then I shake my head, clear it of the idiocy, and the small part vanishes. _Of course he is!_ They all are.

I enter the classroom, and find that almost everyone is sat down already. I keep my head low and begin walking to the back. I half expect Lauren or Jessica to make a snide remark at me as I pass them, but neither do. They actually seem preoccupied and I doubt they've even noticed I've entered the room.

I soon realise why. Just as I step past them, Jessica says something that makes me stop in my tracks.

"Can you believe someone cleared them all up?" she asks Lauren, disgust clear in her voice.

"I know. Who the hell does this person think they are? Messing with our hard work like that? We should have put more of them up. It wouldn't have been as easy to take them all down then," Lauren answers.

"Totally. The bitch deserves it... I wonder if it was a teacher... Oh no, Lauren! What if we've been caught?" Jessica gasps.

"Don't worry. We haven't been caught. Besides, if we ever _did_, it wouldn't matter. Rose would get us out of it. After all, it was _her_ idea. We did everything she asked... we only put them up in the hall with Bitch Face's locker. And the banner has already been taken down. Relax!" Lauren says, a note of finality to her words.

My breathing picks up as I realise what they are saying. They _did_ do it! I was right the first time.

_Wait!_ That means... _Oh my God_. I just said all of that to Edward, and he didn't even do anything wrong. He actually helped me. He helped me? No... he couldn't have... why would he? I was so awful to him. Not just today, but last week, too.

I need proof. I have to go and see for myself.

Feeling determined, I turn around and head out of the classroom. "Miss Swan... Miss Swan!" I can hear my teacher hollering my name from behind me. Mr. Phillips must have arrived just as I was leaving. I ignore him, and rush through the halls until I reach the one with my locker.

_It's true! _I gasp as I come to a sudden stop. The hall is empty, completely stripped of the posters. Edward actually spent time taking every one of them down. _That's _why he was absent in the cafeteria.

I walk over to my locker in a daze, my mind filled with a cluster of confusing thoughts. The fact is, I don't know what to think. I... I'm so confused. So lost. What have I done?

I turn my back to my locker, gradually sliding down to the floor, and then bring my knees up to my chest. I really _am _stupid. I jumped to a conclusion that was so far from the truth, it couldn't stretch even a millimetre further.

I feel sick as I think about the last half an hour. I said some horrible things. I accused him of preposterous acts. Acts that he never made. _Why do I always mess up?_ Well, it's certain now. Edward will never speak to me again. _Ever_.

I run my hands over my head, gripping my hair tightly. It hurts but it's what I deserve. Pain. It's what I should welcome. I think about everything I said and did. It plays out over and over in my mind. Time passes by and I know I need to move. I can't go back to lessons. I just can't. In the end, I decide to leave. I have never ditched school, but today seems like an exception. It'll only be this once.

Eventually I stand, turning to open my locker and switch out the things I need with the things I don't from my bag. But when I open my locker, a small, folded piece of paper flutters out, landing on my shoe. I bend to pick it up. Confused, and slightly wary after today's events, I slowly open it up.

_Bella, I didn't do it. I did none of the things you accused me of. Please believe me! I can explain. Text or call if you're willing to listen. I'll be waiting._

_Edward_

I gasp, almost dropping the paper. Tears spring to my eyes as I read the note again, and then the phone number scrawled at the bottom. I definitely don't deserve _this._

As I walk home, I mull over all that has happened today. And I repeatedly read Edward's note. It wouldn't hurt to have _one_ friend, right?

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Tuesday 25 April 2017_

I spent most of my afternoon and evening, yesterday, mulling over whether I should use Edward's cell phone number or not. As I folded clothes and made the beds. As I washed dirty dishes and took out the trash. Through all of my daily tasks, I thought about what would be best.

Now that I knew the truth, I wanted to apologise. But at the same time, I felt too guilty and ashamed to even put the digits into my phone, let alone actually contact him. In the end, I chickened out.

Was that the wrong thing to do? _Probably_. Do I wish I'd used the opportunity, and texted him last night? _Most definitely. _Because now, I'm freaking out. As I draw closer to school, my heart beats wildly in my chest and my hands become clammy. I don't want to face him, but at the same time, I can't wait to tell him that I know how stupid I was.

When I finally reach the school, I rush inside - this is unusual behaviour on my behalf, and it doesn't go unnoticed. People stop and stare as I pass them. It's probably because I'm not walking around like a timid mouse with my head lowered. I'm actually looking ahead of me for once. I'm walking with my chin up and eyes forward, but there's only one reason for this. And it's not a sudden surge of confidence.

It's Edward.

I need to speak to him, before I chicken out again. If I don't get the guilt off my chest soon, I'll never do it. I'll most likely avoid him at all costs for the rest of high school. It doesn't even matter that we have over two years left, it's my natural instinct; to cower away from tricky situations.

I rush to my locker, heaving a sigh of relief when I see there is no repeat of yesterday. I rapidly get what I need, before I slam my locker door shut and speed walk through the halls. I spend the couple of minutes I spared in my haste searching the halls for Edward. I'm hoping to catch him at his locker, but I soon realise that I don't know where it is. _Shit!_ I begin losing time and soon, I have to head to my first class before I'm late.

I'm distracted for most of my first two lessons. Both my teachers call on me several times to answer questions, but because I'm watching the clock instead of listening to what they are teaching us, I'm unable to answer. This gains me multiple sniggers, but I just roll my eyes in response.

As soon as the bell rings, signalling the end of my maths class, I scurry out of the room. My speed seems to shock several of the other students in the class, seeing as I'm always the last one out, never rushing to pack up my things. My mind is still focused on apologising to Edward, and I'm dead set on making it to Biology before the courage leaves me.

I'm all for admitting my mistakes the entire walk to Biology. However, when I enter the classroom and see Edward already sat at a table that's far from mine, my bravery diminishes. _Oh_. Disappointment weighs me down when I see his choice of seat. I was hoping his note meant that he was fine with my outburst. That he had maybe swept it aside, shrugged it off. _What an idiot I am._

I stand frozen by the door, staring at him. It's like he senses my gaze, because after only a few seconds, he glances up at me. His dull, green eyes meet my gaze head on. The connection is only brief. _Very_ brief. No more then a second after his eyes lock with mine, he drops his gaze back to his table.

With a sigh of defeat, I reluctantly walk to my desk. I throw my bag down with more force than intended, causing the small gathering of people in the room to look over to me. Including Edward. I try offering him a small twitch of my lips - an attempt at smiling - but he turns away from me before he's able to notice.

I sigh again. I've really fucked up. I wouldn't even care if he decided to never forgive me. As I've told myself more times then I can count, me being friendless is a good thing. But what I _do _care about is if I don't get the chance to say my piece and apologise to him. God knows he deserves it.

More people begin filling the room, slowly settling behind their desks. I glance around, and that's when an idea hits me. I watch as people tap away at their cell phone screens, barely paying any attention to the world around them. I look over to Edward, and see he has his cell phone on his desk, but he isn't on it.

I hurriedly pick up my bag and route for his note from yesterday. It's buried at the bottom, crumpled and torn at one corner. After torturing myself last night, trying to decide what to do, I shoved it into my bag and tried in vain to forget about it.

After typing his number into my phone, I rush to send him a text, not thinking too much of it in case I lose my remaining bit of courage.

**I'm sorry. - B**

* * *

**A/N: Soooo... she's taken the plunge. Sorry to leave it here folks, but don't fret because in a mere 48 hours (ish), I'll be back with what happens next! I am so, and I mean _SO_ excited to carry on posting. LET IT BE FRIDAY ALREADY!**

**As always, thanks for reading, leave a review if you wanna, and I'll be back on Friday! See you then ;)**


	12. Chapter 12: 'Okay means okay' (BPOV)

**A/N: Welcome back! Final upload of the week. Let's see how Edward will respond to Bella's text****...**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_I hurriedly pick up my bag and route for his note from yesterday. It's buried at the bottom, crumpled and torn at one corner. After torturing myself last night, trying to decide what to do, I shoved it into my bag and tried in vain to forget about it._

_After typing his number into my phone, I rush to send him a text, not thinking too much of it in case I lose my remaining bit of courage._

**_I'm sorry. - B_**

Chapter Twelve: 'Okay means... okay' (Bella POV)

_Tuesday 25 April 2017_

I watch him intently as he picks up his phone after seeing the screen flash with a new notification. I can't see his face from back here. I can only watch his form. I notice his back straighten slightly as he stares down at his phone.

I start to lose the small remains of hope I have left, as more time passes and he doesn't respond in any way except his posture strengthening. Then my phone buzzes in my hand.

_What for? - E_

I inhale sharply, not expecting a reply after such a long pause between him reading my message and now. I glance up at him, but I can still only see his back. I look back down at my phone to answer.

**For yesterday. I was too quick to point the finger and I was wrong. - B**

I bite my thumb nail as I anxiously wait for his reply. Letting my eyes quickly jump to the time displayed in tiny font at the top of my screen, I see that we still have another minute until our class is supposed to start. And then possibly another few due to Mr. Banner arriving late. As always.

_How do you know that you were wrong? - E_

My brow furrows as I read his message again. Is he testing me? Why is he questioning me like this?

**I overheard a certain conversation and then saw the hall void of any of the posters. It wasn't hard to work out. - B**

I instantly regret sending that one. _Crap_. Does that sound bitchy? It does, doesn't it.

_Okay - E_

Okay? I don't mean to overreact, but _OKAY_?! That's it? That's all I get? I was hoping for something more along the lines of 'I accept your apology' or 'all is forgiven', not _that!_

What does it even mean? _Does_ he accept my apology? Or did my last message ruin my chances of that ever happening?

I internally groan in frustration. _Ugh_! I hate text messages. You can't interpret the true meaning of a word or phrase through texting, because you can't hear the person say it. Are they happy as they talk, or sad? Are they being sarcastic, or genuine? I have no clue if _okay_ means that all is okay now, or if it means 'okay, whatever'.

_See my predicament?_

I reread the message a few more times, before looking up at Edward with a huff. He's still turned away from me, only allowing me to see the back of him.

For the next two minutes, I waste precious time trying to figure out the meaning of his last text message. As I let my eyes flicker between my phone screen and the back of Edward, I attempt to work out what he meant. But I come up with nothing.

Mr. Banner arrives two minutes late to class, demanding that we all turn our phones off this instant. With a huff, angry and confused, I shove my phone into my bag that is still on my lap, and then unceremoniously drop my bag to the floor.

Biology drags by.

Mr. Banner goes on and on about the different types of tropism and how plants grow in response to stimuli in the environment. I would usually be interested in a topic such as this one, seeing as my favourite place in the whole world is a meadow filled with plants, but my concentration is lacking today. Edward's cryptic message is the only thing my mind is focusing on. I pay just enough attention to pick up the basics, but I miss all the intricate details.

By the end of the class, I'm dangerously close to insanity. My mind has come up with every possibility of what this message could mean. Every single idea is one I'm unsure of, which leads me back to square one as I try to conjure up another idea.

As soon as the bell rings, signalling the end of Biology, I'm up and out of my seat. Whereas before, my rush was because I was eager to have a chance to talk to Edward, it's now because I need to get away from him. And soon. I need more time to think over his message, to work out the meaning of it.

I rush to the door, barely stepping out before I trip. _Dear clumsiness, now is NOT the time! _I manage to balance myself before anyone has the chance to poke fun at my bout of clumsiness, and then I quickly begin walking to my next class.

French whizzes by fast. Too fast. _Figures_. The one lesson of the day so far where I've needed time to think over certain things, and it speeds by in the blink of an eye. In all my other lessons today, I've wanted to be in and out of as soon as possible, but they dragged by at a snail's pace. And then, the one that I need to _actually_ do that, to move slowly, and it's gone before it's even begun. Or seems to at least.

Time is so cruel.

Sooner then I had hoped, the bell rings at the end of French, and lunch has begun. I'm unprepared for this. I'm not ready to face Edward yet. I haven't worked out what he meant, and I'm not really sure that I want to ask.

I hesitantly pack up my bag, and make my way to the door. After the slowest walk known to mankind, I arrive at the cafeteria doors. Thanks to yesterday's events, I'm nervous about setting foot in there today. Will it happen again? Will posters be distributed around the room, like they were a piece of advertisement for a travelling circus?

I decide to just go for it. As I walk forward, I mentally tell myself to not look down, to keep my head high and walk in with confidence. But, my mental voice and my brain signals aren't cooperating today. As countless pairs of eyes turn to me, my chin automatically drops to my chest and I rush to the line, not really paying attention to what's in front of me.

In the line, that appears to be even slower today than usual, I stand with my eyes locked on the floor. Even as I feel numerous eyes on me, I don't dare look up. I finally get to the front of the line, and grab a sandwich and an apple, before practically sprinting out of the room. The library seems like a good idea today.

I hadn't chanced looking at the center table while I was in the cafeteria, so I'm unsure whether Edward was sat with his sister and Rosalie's click or not. I wonder about it as I make my way to the library.

I don't have to wonder long. I've been sat down for less then two minutes before Edward appears at the end of the bookcase again, just as he did yesterday. I'm in a state of shock at first, wondering if I'm seeing things or if it's real. Is he really stood there? Has he really bothered to come and find me?

No words are spoken as he comes towards me and drops down in the space beside me. I hadn't realised it until now, but when I sat down, I left a large amount of space to my right. It's like my brain automatically put me in the same spot as yesterday, pushed up against the bookshelves to the left of this corner, leaving a space for him.

We say nothing for the first five minutes. We eat in silence, stealing glances at one another every so often. I'm the last to finish my lunch, but that's only because I was eating miniscule bites in an attempt to drag out the time. I catch Edward's look of mixed disbelief and humour at my behaviour.

With a sigh, I drop my apple core into the empty sandwich box, and look down at my hands, twisting them in my lap. Silence lingers around us. Neither of us speaks for the next couple of minutes, but eventually, it becomes unbearable. All of the confusion, anger and despair I've been feeling the last two hours or so comes barrelling out in a flurry of words.

"Is that all you had to say to me? _'__Okay?'_ Do you know how worried I've been about how you'd answer my text today? I didn't know if you'd accept my apology or just shrug it off. I didn't know if you'd find offense or be shocked. And then when you answered, _I_ was shocked. I honestly wasn't expecting you to want me to explain myself. And please tell me _why_ you asked if I knew I was wrong! Because that baffled me to no end. Who asks that? I said I was wrong, which means I was wrong. That should've been the end of it! So why ask? And then, _oh God_, and then I answered rudely and I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to come off sounding rude. But I mean... _'okay?'_ Seriously? Is that all you could come back with?"

I'm breathing heavily by the end of my rant. My hands were flapping about the entire time, like I'm a mad woman. _Maybe I am_.

I watch as Edward's face turns from neutral to shocked to bemused and finally, it rests on amused. His lips twitch at the corners as he arches an eyebrow. "Hello to you, too," he says quietly, like he's trying to show me how loud I just was. _Oh God_. Mrs. Jensen probably heard all of that. _Fuck my life!_

I face plant my forehead as I groan, earning a small chuckle from Edward. I turn to glare at him. His small smirk falls. "Are you bipolar?" he asks suddenly.

"Excuse me?" I ask, my back straightening as I stare at him, bewildered by his question.

"Are you? 'Cause you have done some _serious_ emotional one-eighties," he says. At first I can't tell if he's trying to offend me or not. But the quirk of his lips tells me it's the latter.

"I'm... I..." I stutter, my cheeks burning red, though I don't know why. Embarrassment, maybe?

"I only ask because, in the last several minutes you've displayed a wide range of emotions. It almost seems impossible to feel so much in such a short amount of time. One minute you're ranting about what I've done and then you're embarrassed and then angry. It's very... worrying," he explains, his brows furrowing towards the end.

"Worrying?" I ask.

"Yeah. Bipolar is serious, and if you have it then-"

"I'm not Bipolar," I say quickly.

"Okay," he says.

"That! That is what gets on my nerves!" I exclaim suddenly, pointing a finger in Edward's face. He leans away from me quickly, looking surprised.

"What?" he asks cluelessly.

"You! You're so... _Gah!_ What does 'okay' even mean?" I say rapidly. I'm not sure if he understands a word I say, and I realise that I kind of sound like a lunatic. _Huh. Maybe the posters were right after all. Maybe I am a fruitloop._

Edward sits up straight again, his shoulder bumping mine. "Okay..." he thinks for a second. "Okay means... _okay_. It means I accept you're statement," he says, shrugging like it's no big deal. I, on the other hand, think it's a _very_ big deal.

"Are you serious?" I ask, pulling myself forward and turning around, so I'm sat in front of him with my legs crossed. He copies, tucking his legs in to cross them, giving me room to sit directly opposite him.

"What?" he asks, shrugging.

"You mean to tell me that while I've been fretting about your last text, all you meant was that you _accept _my message before that?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Well... yeah," he answers, like it's obvious.

"Could you not have text me a more detailed response?"

"Why? What's wrong with 'okay'? It's a great word. It can mean so many different things," he replies, smirking slightly.

"Yeah, that's the problem," I mumble. He looks confused for a second, but just shrugs, leaning back against the wall as he stares at me. We both sit in silence for the next few minutes. I'm unsure of what to say. It's been so long since I've had company at lunch, that finding a plausible topic to discuss is virtually impossible. And Edward... he continues to stare at me. I don't stare back. I lowered my gaze to my green Converse high tops and began playing with the laces long ago, but I know he's staring at me. I can feel his gaze.

"It's time to go, you two," Mrs. Jensen announces from behind me. Her sudden appearance makes me jump in fright. I raise a hand to my chest and close my eyes, breathing heavily, trying to calm my shaking. "Sorry, dear," she chuckles as she walks off.

I open my eyes to see Edward also chuckling, though he tries to hide it as he stands and picks up his bag. After swinging it onto his shoulder, he reaches a hand down towards me. I look between his hand and his face a few times, before giving him a tiny smile of gratitude and reaching up. My hand wraps around his forearm as he grips around the inside of my elbow and pulls up.

Of course, being me, I stumble as he pulls me to my feet, unsuccessfully staying upright. I fall into him and he immediately steps back with one foot to balance himself, grabbing my waist to stop me from falling. I suck in a quick gasp of air as he touches my waist, but his hands are gone as soon as we are both stood steadily.

I instantly move away from him, blushing as I avoid his eyes. "I'll see you later, Edward," I say, before I hurry away, almost knocking into Mrs. Jensen in my rush to leave.

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**A/N: That's it until Monday. Let me know what you guys think of this! Thanks!**


	13. Chapter 13: 'I'll see you around' (BPOV)

**A/N: Sorry this update is a little late. It's literally _just_ turned midnight so I'm only slightly behind schedule. Anyway, here's the next chapter****!**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Thirteen: 'I'll see you around' (Bella POV)

_Monday 8th May 2017_

Lunch in the library has become a regular thing for me and Edward over the last two weeks. We don't meet up every day, only Tuesdays and Thursdays. After all, he has to spend time with Alice and the rest of Rosalie's click, to appease his parents. Or so he says. Sometimes I wonder if he just likes having a break from our time together. From me.

We only see each other at the library on these two days during lunch. That's all. We don't socialise outside of the library. Edward doesn't sit next to me in Biology still, and we don't talk when we pass in the halls. Apart from Mrs. Jensen, no one knows about our lunch time meetings. I don't know what he tells his sister and the others, but it's definitely not the truth.

We don't do a lot during our small amounts of time together. We don't even talk much... only sometimes. Most of the time we sit in silence. _I_ don't mind this one bit. After all, I'm used to my own company and the peace of it. I'm not really sure how Edward finds it, but I've never asked him.

Edward is usually the one to initiate our conversations, but that's not much of a surprise to be honest. We steer clear of anything too personal, anything that would make our... _companionship?_ ...more intimate.

I don't know what you'd call our relationship exactly. Companionship? _Friendship?_ It is a friendship, I guess. Well... I _think_ it is. We're friends but we are also distant most of the time. It's hard to explain. I'm not used to this, to having someone to talk to about random things. I'm not used to having someone that _wants_ to spend time with me.

To be honest, I don't even know if this is a proper friendship. I see him with his sister and friends at the center table during the other three lunches that we _don't_ spend together in the library. They talk, they laugh, they have fun. And I sit at my table by the trash cans, watching from afar. _That sounds strange._ That makes me sound like a creep. But it's totally innocent, I promise!

I actually _like _how our 'friendship' is. It's easy. There's no complex connections or emotions. It's simply a companionship. We don't know too much about each other, we don't care too much about each other. It's great.

Edward doesn't suspect my mother's... treatment... of me. That was something I worried about over the first few days of this arrangement. I was worried that he'd somehow work it out and guess. I was worried that my secret wouldn't be a secret anymore. But it's actually been a lot easier than I had anticipated. To hide it, that is. He doesn't have a clue!

And trust me, there have been _plenty_ of opportunities for him to have guessed. The last couple of weeks at home haven't been pleasant... but then, when are they ever? My mother has been stressed about work. Her new boss is strict, according to her. Renee doesn't get the chance to see her boss all that often, seeing as the boss tends to stay on the top floors, where her office is located. Apparently, she likes to make people squirm. She likes making her employees fear her. And Renee seems to think that she's a primary target for the wrath of the boss. Honestly, I suspect she's being paranoid, a little overdramatic. I'd never tell her this, though.

All of this extra pressure on my mother has stressed her out. And when she's stressed, she drinks. And when she drinks, she's more free with her hands. And her feet. And her elbows and knees. And, of course, her harsh words. I've been at the receiving end of Renee's stress. Thanks to the boss' alleged mistreatment of Renee, I've had to face her angry streak on more than one occasion.

She has been more critical of everything I do. If I step a foot out of line, she notices and punishes me. The bruise on my arm from her hitting me after the disaster of the sighing and unwanted apoloapologies a few weeks ago has disappeared. My left arm looks normal again.

My right arm, however, doesn't.

I had spent my Thursday evening last week pairing up odd socks. You see, even though there's only two of us, for some reason we have enough odd socks to fill a small laundry basket. Every time I come across a lone sock, I dump it in the basket until it's partner is found. With everything else I have to do around the house, I always forget about the odd socks. In the end, usually every two weeks or so, I have to sit with the basket, and pair up all the socks. It takes me _forever!_

Anyway, back to last Thursday. I was almost done with pairing up the socks. Renee had come in to my room to check on me - well, more like to check on my chore progress - and started looking through the pile of paired up socks. I didn't think much of it. She had done something similar with her drawers when I was putting away her clothes a few days before, checking I'd folded them all correctly. I thought everything was as it should be, so when I was pushed from my position perched on the end of my bed, to the floor, I was shocked.

I couldn't understand what had happened straight away. That was until Renee started screaming at me, telling me that I'd paired up her socks all wrong. I'd put a black one with a charcoal one. I'd paired a purple with a blue. The colours were all very similar, it was an easy mistake to make. Unfortunately my mom didn't see it that way. At this point I had a throbbing pain in my hip from where I landed on the floor, but all else was fine. Uninjured.

She demanded I resolve my mistakes. So I did. I started checking all the socks, making sure they were all paired up with the correct partner. I must have been taking too long, because she booted me in the top of my right arm. I'm not talking about a light tap of her toe. This was an optimum strength kick straight to my tricep.

I fell to my left side from the force of her kick, instantly clutching at my right arm, holding it to my body. "Speed up! _God_... You'd think it was rocket science with how much thought you're putting into it," she spat, mumbling the last part as she turned towards my bedroom door. "Once you've finished this _difficult_ job, bring them to me. I'd like to check them all again," she said without stopping to look at me. I was left on the floor with a useless throbbing arm, crying and feeling stupid. She was right. Pairing socks is so easy a _four_ year old could do it, and there I was, messing up. As always.

Now, four days later, I have a nasty bruise that I can only see with a mirror, because it's on the back of my arm. If the pain was non-existent, I'd be able to lift my arm and twist it in some way to see it, but I can't. The pain is too great. It hurts to lift it above shoulder height and writing is a nightmare. It's basically a repeat of what I went through with my left arm. _Just when I thought I'd finally gotten rid of the issue as well._

On the bright side, I've found a new place to go. A new escape.

I've lost my meadow. Probably for good. I could never go back there. Not now that I know someone lives so close by. It's a shame, because my meadow was the one place I could go when life was getting me down. When I was feeling miserable, I'd go to my meadow and instantly feel better. That escapism is gone now. But I've found somewhere else.

My father's grave.

I wouldn't say I've _found_ it, per se. I've remembered it. I've found the strength, and initiative to go back to it. I haven't been to my dad's grave since his funeral, just under five and a half years ago. I could never bring myself to go. It's too hard. I know he's gone, but going there would make it more real. And that's something I can't handle.

I have tried. Honestly, I have. I've walked past Forks' Cemetery more times in the last five and a bit years than I can count. I'd make a decision to visit his grave, but then I'd chicken out and walk right past the entrance gates.

The first time I actually visited him was the weekend after my apology to Edward in the library. I had a lot to think about. I had a lot to _write _about in my journal. After doing my Saturday morning chores, I packed a bag with my headphones, a book, my journal and pen, and some money. I didn't really have a plan when I left the house that day. All I knew was that I needed to find somewhere I could be alone and write in my journal. I needed somewhere I could feel completely safe and in peace.

I never intended to go to Forks' Cemetery. It was a totally unconscious decision. One I'm glad I made. I would never have been able to enter the grounds if I had made the decision prior to leaving my house. I ended up outside the gates, and before I put too much thought into what I was doing, I entered the Cemetery. Even though it had been over five years, I still remembered exactly where he was buried. I slowly made my way to his grave.

The guilt I felt when I saw his bare gravestone was all consuming. There was no sign of loved ones coming to visit. No flowers, no sentimental objects. Not like the graves surrounding his. I cannot put into words how much the guilt weighed me down. Literally. I dropped to my knees in front of his gravestone, placing my palms flat against the cold granite, reading the engraved words with tears pouring from my eyes.

**In loving memory of**

**Charles William Swan**

**16th Nov. 1981 - 10th Oct. 2010**

**Beloved husband, father and son**

**Rest in peace**

I spent the first hour at his graveside sobbing, hugging his stone like I was hugging _him_. I repeatedly apologised, my words garbled due to my unceasing sobs. I couldn't see, the tears were forming in bucket loads before spilling over like a waterfall. I poured my heart out to him. I apologised for everything; for not coming sooner, for not visiting at all, for abandoning him, for not making sure there was always a bouquet of flowers by his side. And for causing his... him to... for being the reason he died.

After I had calmed, I sat on the grass beside his headstone and wrote in my journal. I had a lot of emotions coursing through me, a lot of things I needed to get off of my chest. As soon as my pen met the paper, I was unstoppable. The words came barrelling out, ink flowing over the paper at a rapid speed. Some of it made a poem, or a piece of a song. But others were just random pieces of writing; no rhyming or stanzas, no rhythm or beat. Just words. Kind of like a diary entry.

Since then, I've been back every chance I've had. Twice Angela has let me leave early, so I used those opportunities to go visit. The past weekend, I spent all of my free time I could by his side. Any time I can spare has been spent at his graveside. I bought some flowers from the small selection at the grocery store, seeing as the only florist here in Forks closed down some years ago, and took them with me on my second visit to him. I'll make sure that there is always a fresh bouquet for him from now on. I feel ashamed that I've never thought to do so before now. I'm not a very good daughter. The last five and a half years are proof of that.

It's Monday, which means I'll be eating lunch on my own today. That has been my first thought when I wake up every weekday for the past two weeks, since me and Edward began meeting in the library - either that I'll be eating alone at lunch, or I'll have company.

I have some breakfast, get showered and then dressed. I choose my black t-shirt with a picture of Mickey Mouseprinted on the front, to wear underneath my blue denim dungarees. I know that Mickey Mouse is a kids programme, but he is awesome. And anyone who doesn't agree needs their head testing. I love Mickey. I even have a large stuffed toy version of him sat on the chair that's in the corner of my room beside the door.

I shrug on a charcoal grey cardigan, to hide my bruised arm. I pull on my red Converse high tops, painstakingly throw my hair up into a low ponytail, dab some makeup over my dark eyes and freckles, as always, and get everything I need before leaving. I hop onto my bike after unlocking it and throw the lock into my bag. I decide to go a different route to school than my usual today. Instead of sticking to the residential streets, I choose to ride through the center of town, where most of the shops and businesses are located.

Once I'm outside a specific store, I jump off of my bike, leaning it against the storefront as I walk inside. The smell of sugar fills my nose, providing me with a sense of nostalgia. Forks' only sweet shop. It's small, with the cashier desk at the back and shelves lining every available wall space, filled to the brink with jars, and boxes of sweets. A small section of the wall on the right side of the shop isn't shelved. Instead it is covered in railings for packets and bags of sweets to hang from. Two small, glass topped round tables sit in the center of the room, displaying a variety of chocolates and candy bars. The floor, cashier desk and shelves are dark walnut, and the walls are fuchsia.

My father used to bring me in here after every piano lesson that he would take me to. Kind of like he was rewarding me. He'd always tell me to pick out anything I wanted, to maybe try new things, but there is only one thing I would get from this shop. I immediately walk to where they are, in a large share size bag, hooked on a rail attached to that specific section of the right wall. The gold packaging immediately brings a smile to my face.

"Isabella? Is that you?" a low gruff voice calls from the back of the shop. I turn, the pack of sweets securely held in my hands. Hank Langford, the shop owner for as long as I have been alive, is stood behind the cashier desk. His hair is grey, wrinkles run deeply into his skin. His age is showing, but he's still got that charm about him. I think it's his eyes. They are a silvery blue, the most unique eye colour I've ever seen. I remember they'd always fascinate me as a child. He's getting on a bit now. I don't know his age exactly, but I'd guess he's in his late seventies. Maybe even early eighties. He and his wife, Cynthia, live in the apartment above the shop.

"Hi Hank," I say with a rare natural smile on my face. I walk over to him, placing the packet onto the countertop between us.

"Aah. Isabella, I haven't seen you in here in a while," he muses, his eyes searching mine. I lower my head instinctively, trying to hide any emotions he may find.

It's true. I haven't been in here for a long time. I'd say it's been about three years. I would come in to get my personal favourites, as a living memory of my father, but after a couple of years, the trips here became more infrequent until they stopped all together. The pain was too difficult to handle. Every time I pass the sweet shop to go to work, I have the urge to come in and buy my usual, but then an image of my father's closed casket at his funeral passes before my eyes, and I walk straight passed.

I've only come in today, because recently I've made a small amount of peace with my father's death. Not completely. But going to visit his grave has given me the strength to come in here.

"Yeah... you could say that," I mumble, finally raising my head to offer him a small smile. He eyes me speculatively, before his gaze softens and he matches my smile.

"You still like these then?" he asks as he picks up my chosen item.

I nod. "Yep. Still my favourites," I answer. I hand over the money for them, and he then passes them back. I clutch them to my chest like they're my most prized possession. Hank looks at me with concern in his eyes.

"How are you holding up, kid?" he asks, his voice quiet, full of an emotion I can't quite decipher.

"I'm... I'm managing. Day by day," I answer truthfully. He smiles wistfully, his eyes growing misty for a brief moment.

"That's good. Very good," he mumbles. "Say hello to your mother for me, will you?" he requests. I have to fight my natural reaction to his request, to scoff or laugh in his face. There's no chance of that happening. But I don't tell him this. I nod and smile, telling him I'll do just as he asks.

"Sure. Tell Cynthia I said hello, too, please? I'll come back in soon to see you both. And to buy some more of these," I say with a chuckle as I hold up the packet. Some unclear emotion flashes in his eyes. It's gone almost as soon as it arrives.

A strained smile appears on his face. "Will do," he says stiffly. I want to know what's wrong, but I don't want to pry and intrude. It could be personal. So I decide to leave it.

"Thanks for the sweets, Hank. See you sometime soon," I call out to him as I leave the shop. He tells me "goodbye" before the door closes.

After putting the sweets into my bag, I get back on my bike and make it to school just in time. The bell for first class rings just as I reach the classroom door. I'm met with several sniggers and giggles as I walk past people to get to my seat at the back. More accurately, my outfit is gaining the amusement. The dungarees stoop low enough so that the head of Mickey Mouse is visible to everyone who looks at me.

"Nice top, Minnie," Lauren sniggers as I walk past her and Jessica. Both of them throw me a look of disgust, their eyes looking me up and down. I don't care. Ignoring them is the best policy, as always.

And _Minnie_? Seriously? Is that the best she could come up with?

All of my classes before lunch pretty much follow the same pattern. Looks, laughs and jokes all aimed at me. But then again, what's new? It's nothing I'm not used to. I just ignore and go about my day like all is peaceful.

When the bell for lunch sounds, I pack up my stuff and head in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. I don't go to the library either. Edward won't be waiting for me there, and I have no reason to go to the cafeteria today. I have my sweets for lunch, so I don't need to go and buy any of the school food.

My trip to the sweet shop before school has me in a nostalgic mood. I decide to go to the music rooms. Forks High School isn't big, so the music department isn't anything major. There are only two pianos in the whole school, one in the small auditorium, and the other in one of the two music classrooms. The latter is where I am heading now. I can play the piano well. I had lessons from four years old until I was ten. I picked it up quite quickly. My teacher said I was a natural. The guitar, however, is a whole other story.

Luckily, the music room that has the piano in is unlocked, and empty. I haven't been in here for a long time. And I haven't played a piano in a while either. I do have a keyboard at home, one that my father bought for me on my sixth birthday. I don't play it often though. My mother doesn't like it. She says it hurts her ears.

The last time I played a piano was around four months ago, when I snuck in here during a lunch, just like today. It was a day someone had poured a gel of some kind into my locker. I was pissed off but didn't want to show it. I didn't want to be in the cafeteria and be a laughing stock, but I also couldn't go to the library. A rare lunch time study group was in there, preventing me from escaping to my corner. The music room was my last option that day.

I walk into the room, pulling my sweets out of my bag as I go. I open them up and throw a couple into my mouth, closing my eyes quickly as the flavours burst across my tongue. I sit down on the piano bench, dropping my bag to the floor beside me and placing the open packet on top of the piano, before lifting the lid with a great amount of care. I stroke the keys softly, closing my eyes and breathing a heavy breath in. Memories of playing songs for my dad at home on the keyboard he bought for me flood my mind.

Out of instinct, and without much thought beforehand, my fingers begin moving, pressing down on the keys and playing a familiar melody. _River Flows In You _by Yiruma was always one of my favourite pieces to play. And to listen to. It's sad but graceful. At times its sweet and slow, but becomes stronger as the song progresses.

I remember it all, note for note. My eyes are now open, and I watch as my hands move over the keys. It's like I was made to play this beautiful instrument. I feel completely at home when I'm sat in front of one.

The last note of the song is disrupted by a sudden echo of applause. I swivel on the bench to face the music room door behind me. Edward is stood in front of the closed door, still clapping, with a look of utter shock on his face. He begins to slowly walk towards me, his hands finally dropping to his sides. The look of shock, however, doesn't leave his face.

I remain silent, mortified that he heard me play. No one but my ex-piano teacher, my parents and my grandparents has heard me play. Ever. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. I'm too stunned. Too embarrassed.

I quickly turn to face the piano keys as Edward sits on the bench beside me. I move over to give him room without him even having to ask. I hear his bag drop to the floor. I press a key down as we sit in silence. The sound resonates around us. I press another, closing my eyes at the familiar calming feeling that the sound of the notes create.

"How long have you played?" Edward asks quietly, as if he's afraid to interrupt my peace.

I blush as I look towards him. He's staring at me, curiosity clear in his green eyes. I turn my head to face the piano once more, not having the courage to speak about something so personal while staring him right in the face.

"Um, since I was four," I answer hesitantly.

"You're really good," he compliments, his voice soft and quiet. I blush again.

"Thank you," I whisper, pressing another key down.

"Have you had any lessons?" he asks me.

"I did, until I was ten," I answer, my voice barely above a whisper and clogged with emotion.

"So you studied it for six years?" he asks after doing the math. I nod silently. "Why did you stop with the lessons?" he asks innocently. I feel the colour drain from my face, suddenly feeling unsettled.

"Um, I... my... well, um..." I stutter frantically over my words, trying to find an answer. How do you casually tell someone that you stopped taking piano lessons because your father died? It doesn't seem like the most suitable topic of conversation.

"You don't have to answer," he says quickly. I turn my head to look at him, offering him a small smile in thanks. It's rare that I do so to him. Smile, that is. I carry on pressing random keys, not really feeling confident enough to play properly now that Edward has arrived. Actually, come to think of it...

"How come you're here? It's Monday. Shouldn't you be in the cafeteria with the others?" I ask, halting my key pressing momentarily so I can turn and watch his reaction.

He groans in frustration, hanging his head back. "My sister is being a pain in the ass," he complains.

I can't stop the giggle from escaping me. He lifts his head to narrow his eyes at me. I can sense he's not offended by my giggle though. His glare almost seems playful. "Why? What's she doing?" I ask. This is one thing Edward does a lot; complain about his sister and her annoying tendencies. He also has a habit of bitching about his parents, which I surprisingly don't mind. It's nice, hearing about another family's dynamics, even if he despises them at times.

"So, you know it's Rosalie's birthday tomorrow?" he asks. I nod. Everyone knows about her birthday. She doesn't let anyone miss knowing of the day she was born. If she could, I guarantee she'd have posters and such advertising the special day.

"Well she's having a party. I-" he begins, but I interrupt.

"Wait! She's having a party on a school night?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah, are you really surprised? She's the Mayor's daughter. She can do anything she wants," he says. The way he speaks confuses me slightly. It's like he's defending her. Or maybe I'm just being paranoid. "You didn't know about the party? It's literally the only thing people 'round here are talking about. Everyone's invited," he says, sounding baffled.

"Not everyone," I mumble. I shrug and smile weakly as my eyes meet his. "I don't get invited to many parties, Edward," I tell him. Silence follows my words. I can tell by the look on Edward's face that he doesn't know what to say. He looks at me with sympathy, and I hate that. "Anyway, back to your story. Sorry for interrupting," I say quickly.

"Oh yeah. Um, don't worry about it. Where was I? Oh yeah, so the party tomorrow... I plan on going. _Alone_. My sister has other plans though," he says, rolling his eyes. "She wants me to ask Jessica or Lauren to go with me. As my _date_! _No fucking way_ is that happening. Not in a million years," he shudders as he tells me of her plan. I don't offer any response as he carries on ranting. "And now she's got my mother involved. It's a fucking nightmare. They have both been pestering me all weekend about it."

"Aww. Poor you," I tease as I pat his arm in mock comfort. He gives me the death glare. I smirk in amusement.

"Bella, this isn't funny. What am I going to do?" he asks me, exasperated.

"Easy. Ask one of them to go with you," I say, before I reach into my bag of sweets and pop one into my mouth.

"What?! _No_. I don't wa-" he stops mid-sentence, his eyes following the movement of my hand. His nose wrinkles in obvious disgust. "Gummi Bears? Really, Bella?" he questions as he eyes my bag of Haribo sweets like it's going to come alive and attack him. You'd think the bears were real with the way he's acting.

"Yes, Gummi Bears. Is there a problem?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I reach into the bag and pick out another three. His face scrunches up as he watches me chew.

"You do know they're made with gelatin, right?" he asks.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Yes. Yes I do. Please do not give me the lecture. I've heard it all before... about how gelatin is made from boiling animal bones, cartilage and skin. I don't care. They taste good, so there's no issue," I answer as I throw another one into my mouth. He gives me a look of disbelief. I pick up the bag, shaking it a bit to loosen the ones that are stuck together.

I hold out the bag in Edward's direction. "Want one?" I ask. He shakes his head vigorously, pushing the bag away from him and towards my chest. That's when his eyes drop to where the bag is. I'm about to admonish him for staring at my boob area when his eyes raise to mine, question and amusement twinkling in them.

"Is that Mickey Mouse?" he asks, pointing to my chest. I look down at my top briefly, before looking back up at him, my blush heating my cheeks.

"Um, yeah. I love Mickey Mouse," I answer honestly. No point in pretending it's not true.

"_Still_?" he asks as he quirks an eyebrow. I can't help but feel like he's going to take the piss out of me.

"You're being very judgemental today. First my sweets and now my clothes," I say coldly as I turn back to face the piano.

"No I'm not," he replies quickly. Defensively. He sighs, and I watch out the corner of my eye as he lowers his head. "I'm just trying to understand you better," he admits quietly. I don't know what to say to that, so I stay silent. Edward eventually raises his head. I sense him turn his gaze back on me.

"So..." he begins. "Mickey Mouse, huh?" he asks, again with genuine curiosity lacing his voice. I can sense in the way he says it, by the tone of his voice, that he is attempting to lighten the mood.

"Uh-huh," I say with a nod, deciding to help by latching onto his attempt. "Mickey Mouse is freaking amazing!" I exclaim, before placing my fingers at the keys needed to start the song. I begin playing it, a sincere goofy grin on my face. After a full run through of the song, I stop and look at Edward. He looks utterly confused. "Oh my God! You don't know this tune?" I ask incredulously. Edward shakes his head silently, looking at me like I've got three heads. "It's the _Mickey Mouse Clubhouse_ theme song," I inform him, starting it from the beginning. Edward laughs as I play. All too soon, before I can finish the song, I join in Edward's laughter, resulting in my inability to play anymore.

We both calm down, a few chuckles here and there coming from Edward. I eat some more Gummi Bears, much to Edward's revulsion. I roll my eyes at his look of disgust and shovel a handful into my mouth. He pretends to gag, turning away to look down at the keys. He starts to press on random ones, not really creating any set melody.

"Do you play?" I ask. He nods, glancing at me sideways, like he's checking I've finished eating the _oh-so-horrible _sweets. "Can you play something now?" I ask curiously. He stops the movement of his fingers, turning his head fully to look at me.

"Like what?" he asks. I pretend to think long and hard about it, tilting my head up and tapping my chin.

"I don't know. Something that will amaze me," I say. He nods his assent, turning to the piano. He straightens his back, delicately placing his fingertips on the keys. He closes his eyes, and just as I think he's going to blow me away with a wonderful piece of piano playing, he begins with the _Happy Birthday _tune.

I laugh as he smirks at me, continuing to play the well-known tune. "Come on now," I whine. "Be serious."

"Alright, alright," he concedes, stopping to play another song. I'm prepared, yet again, for a well-played piano piece, when he abruptly comes in strong with _Do Re Mi. _I huff, crossing my arms over my chest, causing Edward to laugh. He stops and holds his hands up in surrender, still laughing.

"I'm starting to think you're just stalling because you can't really play at all," I say, deepening my frown in an attempt to hide the smirk trying to break through. Edward grows serious, raising an eyebrow at my challenge. He cracks his knuckles, much to my dislike, and settles his hands on the keys. His face sets in determination, his eyes closing briefly, before he begins playing.

And play he does.

He plays one I recognise, but one that I don't know how to play. _Canon_ in D Major by Johann Pachelbel. I'm in shock and awe as he plays the piece perfectly, never faltering once. Once he finishes, he turns to me, offering me a shy smile.

"Wow. That was... _Wow_." I say, struggling to find the right words. He chuckles nervously, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck. "Where did you learn to play like that?" I ask.

"My parents put me into lessons as soon as possible. They tried doing the same with Alice, but she never really enjoyed it. I, on the other hand, loved learning new instruments," he tells me, shrugging.

"I'm sorry... did you just say _instruments_? Plural. As in more than one?" I ask.

"Yeah. I can play the piano, guitar, alto saxophone and I can kinda play the drums. I want to learn more, but school gets in the way of the dedication learning a new instrument takes," he says with a frown, shrugging again like it's no big deal. But to me, this is a big fucking deal. I can only dream of playing more than just the piano.

"Wow. That's so cool. The guitar? I've tried, but... yeah," I trail off with a nervous laugh.

"What? Do you struggle with it?" Edward asks. I shrug looking down at my hands. I want to answer "yes" because that is partly the truth. For some reason I struggled with the guitar. It didn't come to me as naturally as the piano did. However, that's not all there is to it. And right now, I don't want to get into it. My nostalgia has already reached its limit - or the limit I'm willing to give it, at least - for today. And the nostalgia today has been pleasant. Positive. Talking about _that_ would taint it with negativity.

Edward must sense my unease, because he turns away without asking any further questions. I look around, wanting to be rid of the horrible tension that has suddenly filled the room. "Oh, look!" I say, pointing to the other side of the room. Two acoustic guitars are hanging on the wall. "Can I hear you play?" I ask him.

"Maybe some other day," he says softly. I turn to look at him, confused and a little hurt by his refusal. He's looking at the door, or rather, at the clock _above_ the door. "We should go, or we'll be late to our next class," he announces, standing from the bench and swinging his bag onto his shoulder.

"Right," I mumble, a little disappointed, copying his actions. He waits for me to close the lid of the piano and pick up my sweets, glaring at the pack in my hand. It's a struggle not to laugh at his aversion for Gummi Bears.

We walk out of the music room together. It's not until we turn the first corner of the corridors that I realise this isn't such a good idea. People blatantly stare, slack-jawed at the two of us. I do what comes natural and lower my head. Unfortunately for Edward, he's not used to the judgemental attention. I can sense how uncomfortable he is. His unease is like a fume, rolling off of him in clouds of mist.

After walking a minute or so in silence, we reach a corridor in which I have to go left, and Edward has to go right. "Um, I'll... I'll see you around," Edward mumbles as he scurries off, desperate to get away from the stares. Or me.

I sigh as I watch him walk away, feeling sorry for him. As I turn to carry on walking to my next class, I see the devil-duo stood outside our classroom door. They both have their arms crossed over their chests, matching scowls on their faces as they narrow their eyes at me.

I choose to ignore them, walking towards the door and pushing past them both to enter. I hear their sounds of disgust as I walk in between them; the scoffs and growls. I just roll my eyes. I hurry to my place at the back of the room. It's only a few minutes later, after I'm sat and the lesson has begun, that I think back to Edward's parting words.

_"I'll see you around."_

Why didn't he say "I'll see you tomorrow"? What does this mean? Will he no longer want to meet me for lunch in the library? It's Tuesday tomorrow, so I should be definitely seeing him. Speaking to him. Eating with him.

Am I looking too much into this?

Have I ruined my one friendship because my mere presence, just me walking beside him, caused people to stare?

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**A/N: Oh no. Something for Bella to worry about until the next day. Is she looking too much into it? Do _you _think Edward will stick to their usual Tuesday lunch meet? Let me know in a review.**

**Thanks for reading and I'll see you again on Wednesday!**


	14. Chapter 14: 'like living a nightmare'(B)

**A/N: I've not got anything I really need to say. Enjoy!**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Fourteen: 'like living a nightmare' (Bella POV)

_Tuesday 9th May 2017_

Have you ever worried so much about something that you can't eat? You can't sleep? You can't concentrate on anything but the thing you're worrying about?

Well if you haven't, let me tell you, it's horrible. When one little problem, one miniscule event, takes up every corner of your mind, drowning you in worry and regret. It's like living a nightmare.

Edward's behaviour during our short walk after lunch yesterday, and his words as he fled the hallway, have caused me to do nothing but dwell over how today will be. Will he not bother to meet me at the library? My mind has come up with the worst possibility - that he'll never want to speak to me again.

My heart hammers in my chest as I walk to the cafeteria. I don't know what to expect. Now, even though it's been nearly a full twenty-four hours since Edward said those four words, _"I'll see you around"_, I'm still worrying over it. I don't understand why. Our friendship is quite new.

I _should_ be worrying about who left the note in my locker. This morning, when I arrived at school and opened up my locker, a note fell out. It reminded me so much of the day Edward left the note with his phone number on. At first, I thought that this one was from him, too. But it wasn't. At least I hope it's not from him. This note is written in different handwriting to Edward's, which indicates that it's not from him.

It simply says _'__Stay away'._

Stay away from who? There is no name on the paper. No sign to tell me who wrote it. You see? I _should_ be worried about this. But I'm not. The only thought running through my mind as I draw closer and closer to the cafeteria is, _W__ill Edward show up at the library?_

I walk through the doors, keeping my eyes trained on my shoes as I make my way to the lunch line. My hands shake with nerves, anxious to see if my worrying is for nothing, like I hope. I stand in line and wait. We all move up, one by one, slowly. Almost too slowly, like the universe just wants to make me suffer more. I feel like skipping out the meal just so I can see if he'll meet me at the library. But my stomach growling tells me to stay.

I didn't get any dinner last night. I had made me and my mother a curry, using the jarred sauce from the grocery store. It was only when we sat down to eat that I realised I hadn't cooked the naan bread. I was hoping my mother wouldn't realise, but to no surprise, she did. She pushed my plate to the floor in her anger, smashing it into pieces. Curry sauce and rice covered the tiled floor and the kitchen cabinets. It took me forever to clean up. By the time I had it all clean and the room back to normal, Renee had finished her meal, and forbade me from eating anything. I didn't try and argue, or go against her instructions. I went to my room and stayed there all night, until she left for work this morning. Unfortunately, she decided to take her time getting ready for work today, which didn't leave me enough time to get any breakfast after getting dressed and ready myself.

My stomach growls at an embarrassingly loud volume as it nears my turn to get some food. I must seem like a crazed person as I snatch my food from the selection, almost as if it'll disappear at any moment.

Once I have purchased my lunch, I make my way to the cafeteria doors, eager to get to the library. Something distracting, however, catches my attention out the corner of my eye. Edward, sat at the center table. He's in a chair that faces the side of the room with the cafeteria entrance, where I am. He's looking straight at me, and by the expression of guilt plastered all over his face, I know immediately that my worrying wasn't for nothing. He has no intentions of meeting me today. Lauren places her hand on his arm. He turns his eyes away from me to look at her.

My steps falter. Actually, because I'm not looking in the direction I'm walking, my steps don't just falter. They halt completely, as my feet tangle together and I fall to the floor. I drop my food out of instinct, ready to break my fall with my hands. I land safely, or as safely as possible. I don't break any bones, and my head doesn't hit the floor. My hands sting, like they're on fire, because of how I landed on the hard floor. But apart from that, they're okay.

I rush to my feet, stumbling and unsteady as I do so. Laughter echoes all around me, but I keep my head low and try to ignore all of the noise. Try to zone it out. I bend to pick up my now squished sandwich and banana, cursing under my breath as I examine the mess.

I plan on making a quick escape to my library corner. Alone. But first, I look towards the center table again. At Edward. Out of everyone, I thought he may have jumped up when I had fallen, to help me. I know that no one else would have. They never do. But Edward... I thought he may have been the one person to help me up. He didn't though. He's still sat down, his traitorous ass planted firmly in his seat. The seat he deserves to be sat in. With the other traitors and snakes.

I give him what I hope is a disgusted scowl, a hateful sneer, before turning and walking to the doors. I keep my cool facade long enough to be out of anyone's line of sight. And then I run. Not to the library. Not to my next class. Not to the music room, or my locker. I run out the front doors of the school, dump my spoilt food in the closest bin, and go to my bike.

Fuck this place. I'm not staying a second longer. I go home, tears of betrayal and anger and some other emotions I don't know the names of running down my face.

{o0o}

My mouth is starting to ache because of the permanent scowl fixated on my face. It's only broken when I sneeze, due to the dust billowing up with every movement I make. I hate this part of my job. Angela has me dusting the shelves as punishment for snapping at a customer when they repeatedly asked the same question I'd answered the first time. She knows I hate doing this. She doesn't know why, but she knows I hate it. It'll teach me for bringing my bad mood to work, she says.

I hate dusting here because it's something I have to do at home. One of the many things I love about my job is the escape I get from cleaning at home. Days like these are the worst. Here, I'll have to dust the shelves and books, and then vacuum everywhere. I do enough of this at home, dammit!

_See?_ The worst!

Angela doesn't do this, punish me, often. Usually we have a good, strong work - yet friendly - relationship. Days like today, when I'm in an exceptionally bad mood, however, mean Angela has to bring out her boss side and push away the friend side.

She is right to do this. It will teach me. I shouldn't bring my personal shit here. But I can't help it. After I left school, I was so mad. I went home and paced my room for almost two hours. There is probably a dent in my floor now from the path I repeatedly walked for so long. When it was time to come here, I was still just as angry as I was when I left school. I was hoping to have calmed down, but I hadn't. The crying had stopped though, thankfully.

I finish dusting the 'Best Sellers' section, and move onto the next shelf. I can sense Angela watching me from the register, to my right. A few minutes later I complete that and turn to start dusting the 'History'bookshelves, my back now to where Angela is stood. I huff after I sneeze for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes.

"Bella," I hear Angela begin as she walks towards me. She waits for me to stop what I am doing and turn to her. "What's wrong?" she asks. I look to the shelf in front of me, running a finger across it silently. I shrug, earning a sigh from Angela. "Just tell me," she says. I turn to look at her impassively. "You know I'll ask my brother if you don't tell me. I'll find out one way or another," she points out, tapping her foot as she crosses her arms. _Damn. _I hate that she has a brother that goes to Forks High.

I sigh in defeat, turning and walking over to the seats by the window with slouched shoulders. There is only a small round table with two chairs on either side of it, all pressed up against the window, to sit at.

The shop isn't very big. It's small and cosy, filled with wooden bookshelves along walls and in the center, the cash register to the right, and the store room at the back. It's not one of those messy, nothing-has-a-place kind of bookstores. In Angela's, everything has a specific home. The shelves are sorted into genres and categories, the books lined up alphabetically, according to author's last names. It's a very well kept store.

I slump down into the chair in the very corner of the window, throwing the duster down onto the table before resting my elbows on it and putting my head in my hands. Angela delicately sits down on the chair opposite me. For someone so tall - six foot one to be exact - she moves with a grace you wouldn't expect. She's not lanky with her height. It actually suits her.

"That bad, huh?" Angela says as she studies me. I hum, nodding slowly. "What happened, sweetie?" she asks in a soft voice.

"Just kids at school being evil. Nothing new," I say, my voice void of any emotion. I speak in a monotonous voice. It kind of scares me.

"Have you told your mom?" Angela asks. I shake my head.

"I don't want to worry her," I say. This is always my excuse. Angela doesn't know that the real reason I don't inform Renee of the people at school is because she wouldn't care. I _tried_ telling her, when it all began. She told me that I deserved it. That I should just suck it up, and deal. So I do.

I try to.

It's safe to give Angela this excuse, because I know that she will never tell my mom unless I asked her to. She wouldn't want to betray my trust like that... _Unlike some people today._

"What did they do?" she asks after sighing. She hates that I don't tell my mother, but she doesn't say anything about it. However, her sighing every time I give her the same excuse doesn't hide her disapproval of my choices very well.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I mumble. Angela gazes at me for a few moments, assessing me with calculating eyes. She then sits back and sighs, _again_.

"Okay. Whatever you want. Just know that I'm here whenever you want to talk," she says, leaning forward to rub my arm soothingly, before she stands and heads back towards the store room. Before she goes through the door, she turns to me. "Carry on with the dusting," she instructs with a smirk. I narrow my eyes in a playful manner, as I stand and trudge over to the books. For the first time in a few hours, I smile. I love Angela. She's great.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

I make it home a bit late, but not too long after the usual time I get in after work. Angela let me use her car for ten minutes, to drive around the large parking lot a couple blocks away from the bookstore. It's something she let's me do every now and then, now that my test is nearing. I've done all the necessary exams and filled out all the required forms, all that's left to do is take the practical test. I should be driving by the end of the month, if all goes to plan.

I walk through the door, completely and utterly spent. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. I just want to sleep. But I can't. First I have to cook dinner for me and Renee, and do my chores. I'm too tired to make anything that requires chopping. My arm is in agony after dusting for so long this afternoon. I decide to just throw a frozen ready made pizzas in the oven, along with some french fries. _I__ hope Renee doesn't mind_. She should get home from work in time for dinner being ready.

Whilst they are cooking, I go and empty all the bins into a large black trash bag. I go to every room, emptying them all. Once I've finished with that task, which takes much longer than it should do thanks to my sore arm, I carry the heavy bag to the bins out at the front of the house. After dumping it in one and closing the lid, I turn to make my way back up the porch steps and into the house. My mother pulls up just as I reach the top step.

I wait with the door open for her to come inside. There's no point in going in and closing it now that I've seen her and she's seen me. It would only annoy her anyway. I wait patiently. When I see her face as she stomps up the steps, I instantly cower away. She has a raged expression on her face. Her cheeks are flushed and her nostrils are flaring. _Shit_.

She pushes me inside hastily, knocking my sore arm and causing me to wince. As soon as the front door is closed, she starts on at me. "What are you doing?" she asks. I remain silent. I have no clue what I'm doing wrong. I think back to being stood outside, but come up with nothing. I am completely perplexed. "Aren't you going to Rosalie Hale's birthday party?" she asks sternly.

_Huh?_

I shake my head slowly. "And why not?" she asks, stepping towards me. I glance up at her face. She looks like a wild animal, skittish and on edge, asking me questions in quick succession.

"I wasn't invited," I answer, my voice quiet and timid. Renee scoffs, looking away from me for a moment before returning her gaze back to me. The change from angry and questioning, to dull and disappointed is so quick that it almost seems impossible.

"You're a disgrace, do you know that?" she snaps at me, placing her hands on her hips. I lower my head, my eyes falling to the floor. "You're so pathetic that you can't even get invited to a party that every _God damn_ teenager in town is going to!" She begins walking back and forth in front of me, mumbling to herself under her breath. I stand stock still and watch her, afraid to move or speak at all.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen," she says suddenly, stopping and pointing a finger in my direction. "You're going to get up them stairs and get dressed into something, _anything_ other than... _that,_" she says, gesturing to my outfit with a look of disgust on her face. "And then you're going to go to that party and you're going to mingle. Talk to people."

I'm so shocked that my mouth drops open. I snap it closed, only for it to hang open again. "B-b-but... I wasn't invited. I'll never be allowed inside," I argue pathetically, after finally recovering from my shock.

"I don't care, Isabella. You'll do as I say. I'm already known as the woman who's daughter is a loner. I don't want be known as the woman who's daughter is such a useless piece of _shit _she didn't even go to the party everyone else's kid is going to. I will not be viewed any differently than my friends," she tells me, walking towards me slowly, moving a step with every sentence she says. I cower away, matching her steps with retreating ones of my own, but get obstructed when my back hits a wall.

"Okay," I whisper to the floor, slipping away from her to escape to my room.

"Shower, too. You stink."

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**A/N: So... what do you think will happen next? Please, don't hold back. Let me know in the reviews. I'm eager to know my readers' thoughts on this story.**

**See you Friday!**


	15. Chapter 15: 'Don't be a b*tch' (BPOV)

**A/N: So sorry this is almost two days late. I had a loved one's birthday to celebrate and didn't consider warning you in my previous chapter that this would be posted later than usual. I promise, if there are any future delays I know of beforehand, I'll let you know.**

**Please read the bottom A/N. I have something I want to ask my readers. Anyway, until you reach the bottom, ENJOY!! :)**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_"You're going to get up them stairs and get dressed into something, _anything _other than... _that_,"__ she says, gesturing to my outfit with a look of disgust on her face. "And then you're going to go to that party and you're going to mingle. Talk to people."_

_I'm so shocked that my mouth drops open. I snap it closed, only for it to hang open again. "B-b-but... I wasn't invited. I'll never be allowed inside," I argue pathetically, after finally recovering from my shock._

_"I don't care, Isabella. You'll do as I say. I don't want to be known as the woman whose daughter is a loner. Who's daughter is such a useless piece of _shit _she didn't even go to the party everyone else's kid is going to. I will not be viewed any differently then my friends," she tells me, walking towards me slowly, moving a step with every sentence she says. I cower away, matching her steps with retreating ones of my own, but get obstructed when my back hits a wall._

_"Okay," I whisper to the floor, slipping away from her to escape to my room._

_"Shower, too. You stink."_

Chapter Fifteen: 'Don't be a b*tch!' (Bella POV)

_Tuesday 9 May 2017_

I wait on the stairs for a few moments, waiting and listening as she walks into the kitchen and she checks the oven. After some time has passed, and I hear no shouting about what I've chosen for dinner, I hurry up the stairs.

What am I going to do? I can't just turn up at the Mayor's house uninvited. I'll be laughed at even more.

I _could_ use this as an opportunity to go and see my dad. But it's getting dark and I don't have the guts to walk into the cemetery at night. I think about other places I could go as I have a quick shower. My meadow flits through my mind momentarily, but I scrap that idea pretty quickly. Not worth the hassle of getting caught.

_Oh, I know!_

An idea comes to mind, and I smile to myself as I turn the shower off and step out. There is one place I haven't been in a while. No one will be there at this time, especially seeing as it's Rosalie's party. I dry my hair with the hair dryer, before running a brush through it. I go to my room and over to my wardrobe. I don't need to dress in anything party worthy with where I plan on going... but then Renee would get suspicious.

I sigh as I pull out an outfit I _could _wear to a party, but one that's also suitable for where I am actually going. I pull on a pair of black tights, a plain black t-shirt, and a black and burgundy plaid suspender skirt over it. I pull on my burgundy Converse high tops, and a burgundy knitted cardigan. I stand in front of the mirror that hangs on the wall by my wardrobe for a while and finally, after much mental consideration, deem the outfit okay to go. I quickly scrape my hair into a half up, half down hairstyle and dab a bit of mascara on after reapplying some of the cover up I wear on a daily basis. I then grab my bag, making sure I pack my cell phone, headphones, journal and pen, before I head back downstairs.

My mom is sat at the kitchen table eating pizza and fries when I walk in. My stomach growls, alerting me to the fact that I haven't eaten at all today. I haven't eaten since lunch time yesterday. And that wasn't much; just a pack of Gummi Bears. _God. I'm hungry._ My mom looks up at the sound my stomach makes, assessing my outfit before she pushes the pizza tray towards me. I hurry towards it, placing a couple of pieces onto a napkin as I mumble a "thank you". She grunts in response, stuffing another piece into her mouth. The way she is munching her dinner is beginning to dispel me of my appetite. I almost want to leave the pizza behind, but I know I'll regret that decision as soon as I leave.

As she shoves a handful of fries past her lips, I decide to leave. After quickly grabbing a bottle of water, I leave the kitchen, throwing a "goodbye" over my shoulder as I go.

My mom makes a noise of protest as I hear her chair scrape. "Don't fuck up," she shouts at me, and then she waves me away. She doesn't say "have fun" or "be good", like a normal parent would. She isn't normal though.

As soon as I'm on the sidewalk, I stop to plug my headphones into my cell phone and put them over my ears. After accessing my Playlist and pressing play, I pocket my phone. I then return my bag to my back, pick up my pizza piled napkin from where I'd balanced it on top of the mailbox, and begin the trek to my destination.

Forks has one playground. It's actually on the same route as if I was going to Rosalie's. It's surrounded by a rusty metal fence, its yellow paint job slowly chipping away. There's a jungle gym with a slide and monkey bars, and a swing set made up of four swings, two for infants and two for older kids. There's also a seesaw and a roundabout. It's good for younger kids. I used to love it here.

It takes me about fifteen minutes to walk to the playground from my house. It would take me another ten minutes or so to make it to Rosalie's house. As I come up to the playground gate, I slip my headphones off my head to around my neck so I can listen out for music. I'm surprised I can't hear any even though I'm still quite a few blocks away from her house. I don't know what time the party starts, but it's almost 8pm. That's a good time for a party full of teens to be well underway, right? I wouldn't know.

The gate creeks as I open it, a sign that it's in need of some oil. I go to the jungle gym that stands in the center of the fenced playground and climb the ladder, sitting at the top of the platform linked to the slide. There's monkey bars in front of me that lead to another platform, which is attached to a bridge that ends on yet another platform. That one is accessible via a rope net.

It sounds like a big piece of equipment, but in reality, it's not. The slide is boringly straight and all of the platforms are at the same height, about 5 feet off the ground. The framework is all in red, and the rope net is yellow.

I ate all of my pizza on the way here, and dumped the napkin into the bin by the playground gate as I walked in. Once I'm sat down on the cold metal of the platform, I turn my music off, packing my headphones away in my bag. I sit for a while, leaning up against the red metal bars that border the platform. In silence.

The air is cold and contains that biting chill that most spring nights do. I pull my knitted cardigan tighter around myself. The playground isn't directly beside the treeline that surrounds Forks. It's in the middle of a street, with houses at every angle. The bristling of the trees, however, can be heard from here. When it is silent, like at night, it's easy to hear the movement of the trees from pretty much any point in town. There are so many around us, it makes it quite hard to get away from.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the bars. I could stay here, in this exact moment, forever. It's so peaceful. No people to piss me off, to hurt me or upset me. No interruptions of my solitude. No pain. It's perfect. I could happily freeze time and-

"Bella?" a voice says from down below. My eyes snap open, my heart picking up speed. I slowly sit up, leaning over the edge of the climbing frame so I can see the owner of the voice. _So much for no interruptions._

I almost groan in frustration when I see him. He is stood at the bottom of the slide, looking up at me. The street lamps that are spread out along the edge of the sidewalks luminate a good portion of the playground. His face is visible in the artificial light. His bronze hair is in its usual wayward style, but the ends appear almost golden in the light. His face has an orange hue cast upon it, highlighting his cautious expression. My immediate reaction is to tell him to fuck off, but I bite my tongue.

I slowly look away, showing no interest as I lean back against the bars once more. "What are you doing here, Edward?" I ask, successfully making my voice sound bored, like I'd rather watch paint dry than be involved in this conversation.

"I went for a walk and decided to stop here. To my surprise, I saw you sat here when I entered," he says. I turn my face to the side, to look at him in disbelief. He cocks an eyebrow.

"Believe it or not, Bella, I don't follow you around," he says, the hint of a smirk peeking through his otherwise neutral voice. I wouldn't know if he is _actually _smirking though; I'm back to looking ahead of me, away from him.

I hear his footsteps against the gravel as he walks around the back of me. He stops for a second on my right, at the bottom of the ladder. I can see his form out the corner of my eye. I don't turn to look at him. I listen as he sighs, as his hands rub against the metal when he wraps his fingers around the bars, as his feet clang against the ladder rungs. In less then two steps upward, he's sat beside me, in the same position to how we sit in the library. How we should've been sat today.

I think back to lunch. Back to seeing him sat at that table. Back to realising when he didn't come to my aid after I fell. Back to the hurt and betrayal I felt. All the emotions come rushing back and I instinctively clench my hands into fists as I hang my head to hide the tightening in my jaw. I don't want him knowing how much his betrayal has affected me.

It's affected me more than I care to admit. It's only after he blew me off, after he made the decision to not meet me and to not help me, that I realised how dependant I have become on him. Those two meetings a week have become the only reason I look forward to school, the only reason I've been eager to get out of bed and face a day with the rest of the nightmare teens I have to be around. Maybe it's not even the meetings in the library, maybe it's _who_ I am meeting that has become so important to me. Edward has slowly grown to be a friend - my o_nly _friend. And I didn't realise until today how much I have valued that. I've become reliant on it, on him. And that's bad. Very, _very_ bad.

"Look, Bella, I'm-" he starts, but I stop him before he has the chance to finish his sentence. I already know what he's going to say.

"Shouldn't you be at a party right now?" I ask, interrupting him. He sits silently beside me for a moment, fidgeting. I think he's pissed off that I stopped him from speaking, but the truth is, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear his apologies and excuses. It's only words at the end of the day.

"Um," he clears his throat, "I should be, yes," he answers, his voice small.

"Then why are you here?" I ask curtly, all the while keeping my eyes ahead of me. I can sense his anger building. He's getting frustrated with me. _Good_.

"Bella, don't be like this," he sighs.

"Like what?" I ask, acting clueless as I shrug.

"Don't be a bitch!" he says sharply. I sit up suddenly, turning to face him fully for the first time since he came and sat up here with me. I sit with my legs folded underneath me, my feet to my left at the edge of the platform, keeping constant check that my skirt is draped suitably over my thighs. I stare at him, my anger at his words bubbling over the edge.

"Excuse me?" I ask, my eyebrows practically touching my hairline. I can tell by Edward's straight face that he meant to say that. There's no shock, guilt or regret. His words were purposeful. "How dare y-" I start. He cuts me off.

"Good. An emotion other than indifference," he states, casually crossing his legs at the ankles, where they hang over the edge of the small platform. He arches one eyebrow as he stares at me.

"Wh... huh?" I ask, utterly confused.

"I knew that would get a rise from you, Bella. The hard ass routine was getting on my nerves," he replies matter-of-factly.

"Hard ass routine? I'm not... I don't know what you're talking about," I say, stubborn as I look away.

"Yes, you do," he says firmly. He pauses like he's waiting for something, so I slowly meet his eyes. He softens his gaze and his voice as he speaks again. "You're acting like you don't give a fuck about anything that happened today. But I can see how much it hurt you, Bella. Let me explain. Let me apologise."

He places his hand on top of mine that's laying, palm facing down, beside me. A tingly feeling shoots up my arm from the back of my hand, all the way to my collarbone and neck.

I instantly yank my hand away. "Don't," I demand, my quiet voice contradicting the strength I had intended to speak with. He holds his hand up, the one he just used to touch mine. I glare at him for a moment, before hesitantly nodding my head once, silently telling him to say what he wants to.

"I... I'm sorry. I really am. I was just being a coward, and I'll admit it. I was a fucking coward." He chuckles darkly as he looks away from me, dropping his eyes to his lap. His fingers begin fiddling with the zip of the leather jacket that he is wearing over a light grey t-shirt. I remain silent, unsure of how to respond to his confession.

Eventually, he continues speaking. "I can't work out how you live through that everyday, being stared at and having constant attention on you. I'd... I'd hate it. I _did_ hate it... That's why I stayed away today. I was in two minds whether to meet with you like I usually do. I just... I hated those few moments of attention _so _much, I bottled it. I'm a coward and I'm sorry."

I keep my lips sealed tightly for the following minutes. I don't know how many pass, but Edward's look of desperation reaches a pathetic point, and I take pity on him. "So... what does this mean? Why are you apologising to me if you hated it so much?" I ask. I try to keep my voice casual, like I'm not really bothered. I succeed. But, inside, I'm the complete opposite of my composed exterior. Inside I'm dying to know his reason for apologising. I so badly want to know why.

"I guess I..." he stops and closes his eyes, taking a calming breath before he opens his eyes again and stares directly into mine. "When I saw your face earlier today, when you stood from the ground after you fell, and you looked right at me, I felt like..." He sighs. "I felt like a piece of shit. I felt disgusted with myself. I just... I watched you fall and I didn't even help. You looked so disappointed in me, and I hated that."

"Why? You don't owe me anything," I retort.

"It's not that I feel like I owe you something, Bella. It's more that I... I consider you as a friend. One of my closest friends if I'm being honest. Yeah, we may not spend _loads _of time together. But I enjoy the small amount that we do. I look forward to our two lunches a week in the library," he says as he raises his head to smirk at the end. I release a heavy breath, pulling myself back to my original position, sat beside Edward with my legs stretched out in front of me.

"Friends?" I ask. We've never named what we are. I've been hoping that we were friends, but after the events of today, I wasn't too sure. I have to hear him say it again. I need to hear it again.

"Yes, friends... if you'd like?" he asks me hesitantly.

"I... I would. Thank you," I answer, turning my head to the side so I can view his face. His brows knit together as his head turns to me. Luckily we aren't sat as close as we do in the library, so our faces aren't touching as he does this. We are still quite close though.

"Why are you thanking me?" he asks.

I blush and look away with a shrug. _Stupid Bella._ He's right. Why am I thanking him? _Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._

"Um, I don't actually know. I just... I don't have a lot of friends, if you've noticed," I chuckle quietly. He smiles sadly at me. I frown at the pitying look on his face, until I realise it's not pity. It's because he cares about me. I'm his friend. _A friend_. I feel like jumping up and down or doing some kind of happy dance.

"Wait!" My good mood suddenly vanishes, or it dims at least. There is still one problem. The issue that started all of today's downfalls. "What about the attention? You said so yourself, you hated the staring and judging from everyone. That's not going to magically stop. We'll still get stared at and whispered about. What are we going to do?" I ask.

"Well I, um, I thought about this. Now, please don't feel offended. You can tell me how much of a dick I am for asking this if you want, but I was hoping that, um, maybe we could continue to meet in the library. Secretly. Just for now," he suggests.

I feel a part of my happiness deflate at his suggestion. A part of me instantly regrets asking the question. But then I think about it. About how Edward has just moved here. He won't want the hateful glares and nasty jokes about him being made. He won't want to be at the receiving end of any of that.

"Okay," I whisper, forcing a small smile onto my face. I agree because it's the right thing to do. I agree because he's my friend and I should want to make his life easier. That's what friends do, right?

"You're sure?" he asks. I nod. He smiles widely. "Great. That's fantastic," he beams as he leans back against the metal bars, smiling happily.

"So, how come you're here and not at Rosalie's birthday party?" I ask. He dodged the question earlier.

"It's my fucking sister. She's driving me crazy!" he exclaims angrily. I try not to giggle.

"Oh yeah. Did you ask one of them to be your date in the end?" I ask.

"Pfft. _No,_" he answers, like it's an obvious fact. "I said I wouldn't and I stuck by that. But my sister is on a mission. She kept demanding me to fetch Lauren a drink and asked if Jessica could sit on my lap because there weren't any more places for her to sit." My eyes bug out of my head as he says this. "There were plenty of fucking places for her to sit. Alice was just being her usual intruding, meddling self," he says with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest aggressively.

His elbow hits my bruised tricep as he does so, and I unintentionally yelp out loud. Edward's head whips in my direction, concern shining in his eyes. I close mine briefly, counting to ten to calm my racing heart down. My arm throbs but I shake it a bit, wincing internally, to show him that I'm okay. Once he sees I'm 'okay', or so he thinks, he continues on with his story.

"I told Alice 'no'. I did not want Jessica to use me as a seat." We both shudder in unison. He is probably imagining that, too. "Alice asked me to get _another_ drink for Lauren, and I used that as my chance to escape. I was fucking bored anyway," he admits.

"And you decided to go on a walk?" I ask.

"Yep." He nods. "Alice was my ride, so..." he trails off with a shrug. "God. Sometimes, I _really_ wish I was an only child. Like you!" he says.

"No you don't," I mumble under my breath, but Edward catches my words anyway.

"Why?" he asks. I sense his eyes on my face, but I can't bring myself to look at him.

"Because..." I stop to think of a decent answer, but only one comes to mind. "It's lonely," I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Why do you say that?" he questions. I shrug. "Well, what about your parents?" he asks. I sigh.

"My mom is... she's... _difficult,_" I answer, choosing my words wisely.

"And your dad?" Edward asks after I don't carry on speaking. I was done talking to be honest. There was nothing more for me to add to my answer. Edward's question shocks me. It shocks me so much, that I actually turn to face him. My heart begins racing as I feel the colour drain from my face.

"You... you don't know?" I ask as I search his eyes. "They haven't told you?" I ask, shocked.

"Told me what?" he asks. I search some more, but only see the truth of his complete lack of knowledge of this.

_I was sure they would have blabbed as soon as he started hanging around with them._

"Blabbed about what?" Edward asks me. _I said that out loud?_ My eyes jump to Edward's, caught off guard by his question. "What don't I know?" He's getting impatient.

"Oh, um... my father, he's... um, he... he's dead," I stutter over my words until I eventually force them from between my lips.

Edward's mouth hangs open in response. He's silent. Speechless. "I'm so sorry. He... he's... when?" he asks me hesitantly, emotion seeming to choke his words as he speaks. I look away from his face again, drawing my knees up to my chest to wrap my arms around them.

"2010," I reply quietly.

"So you were ten?" Edward asks for verification.

I nod silently, unable to reply verbally. A lump has begun to form in the back of my throat.

Edward contributes to the silence. I'm worried for a moment that he'll ask how my father died. I don't think I can handle retelling it all at this moment in time. But, to my surprise, Edward doesn't ask. And for some reason, the fact that he doesn't push for answers to feed his curiosity makes me feel even more emotional.

I'm helpless as a tear slips from my eye. Another slowly follows, and it's not long before a consistent stream of tears comes pouring down my face. My heartache over losing my dad, in addition to Edward's thoughtfulness, turn me into a blubbering mess.

I feel his arm slip around my shoulders. He pulls me to his side, and I willingly lean against him, sobbing into his leather jacket. He allows me to cry it all out, as he sits silently and rubs his hand up and down my arm gently.

**A/N: Yay, they're friends! And Bella has opened up a bit about personal things. Progress! Do you think it will be long before _more_ progess is made between these two?****I know it's been Bella chapters for a while now, so if you're waiting for an Edward pov, I can tell you that there are 2 more Bella chapters after this one, and then we're back to hearing from Edward's side for a little while.**

**I know that I haven't had any reviews in the last few chapters, but to be honest, that isn't going to stop me from posting this because I'm enjoying posting my content too much! Though I would love to hear people's thoughts on my story, just knowing that some are adding it to their favourites is enough for me. I'm enjoying this whole process immensely because I've had thia story in the works for a while and it feels good to gradually be getting it uploaded. Which leads me to what I wanted to ask you guys...**

**I have a few more stories in the works. They're no where near as ready as this one was/is, but I'm planning them and some chapters have already been written for a couple of them. I was just wondering, is my style of writing enjoyable? What I'm really wanting to know, is, would you read something else by me? I'd love to know your answers, and also if you have any tips or improvements I could make to my style of writing. You can let me know in a review, or in a PM. Even if it's just a thumbs up emoji, , I'll be happy with it.**

**Anyway, that's it 'till Monday. Not long to wait _at all!!_ Thanks for reading! :) See ya next time!!**


	16. Chapter 16: 'Devil 1 Devil 2' (BPOV)

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews!!! Was a lovely thing to wake up to yesterday! Unfortunately I can't reply to _guest_ reviews, but thank you anyway. As promised, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Sixteen: 'Devil 1... Devil 2' (Bella POV)

_Sunday 14 May 2017_

After another hour or so at the playground, me and Edward walked to my house, where he rode my bike home. He had wanted to walk, but his house is on the other side of town and it was already late. Alice was ignoring his texts and calls, so it was obvious she wasn't coming for him. He was against taking my only means of transport at first, but after I made him promise to ride it to school the next day and leave it there for me to ride home, he was okay about it.

Since my minor breakdown at the top of that jungle gym, since I admitted the death of my father to him, we've been closer. I can feel it. It may have more to do with the fact that Edward said we are friends now.

That made my day. My _week_, even.

I can't put into words how happy I am about that. I know I've said in the past that it's better for me to have no friends, because I'm better on my own, and it's easier to keep my secret if I'm not close to anyone. However, I didn't know until now that I needed this. I needed just one friend, someone my age, that I can talk to and laugh with. It wasn't healthy for me to be so alone all of the time.

The only downside is that our friendship isn't exactly... conventional. We only speak to each other in the library. Any other time around school, we keep our distance. Or should I say _Edward _keeps his distance. I just act as I normally do. We have started speaking via cell phone after school though. Texting mainly. But we have spoken over the phone once since Tuesday. That was when Edward wanted to know my shifts at the bookstore, because he needs help finding a certain book. I'm more than happy to help.

So, overall, the rest of the week since the disastrous Monday and Tuesday has been good. I have a stable, _real_ friendship, and my mother's been happy that I listened to her and _'went to the party'._ I should feel bad about lying to her, shouldn't I? But the truth is, I don't. I'm happy that I got to do something _I _wanted to do, _and_ I pleased my mom at the same time.

I'm in an unusually good mood - though these are becoming less unusual lately - as I walk through my front door after work on Sunday. Angela called me in, saying she needed help as a large delivery of new stock was due. I was there from midday to 4pm.

I happily do my chores, a smile on my face as I hum to the music playing on the stereo in the kitchen. When Renee comes home, my good mood diminishes only a bit, as it makes way for nerves. Everything seems okay, so I go back to smiling as I cook.

Dinner is surprisingly pleasant. My mom doesn't nitpick at every little thing, she doesn't hound me for information on my chores. Even after dinner, as I'm clearing the plates and cleaning the kitchen, she doesn't make a big spectacle of checking I've done everything correctly.

When I finally get into bed, I feel light. Free of any stress. It's a nice change. It's something I'm not accustomed to, but something I could get used to. I doze off laying on my left side. I can't lay on my right just yet; the bruise is still too painful to put any pressure on.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

A sudden glare of blazing light wakes me up. I scrunch my eyes shut as I bury my head into my pillow. _What the fuck? _At first nothing happens. No sounds reach my ears. Maybe it's because I'm still half asleep that I don't hear her footsteps as she charges over to my bed, I don't hear her heavy breathing as the anger boils within her. The first clue I get that she's in the room, that she's the one who turned my light on, is the almost inhumane screech that comes from her.

"YOU_ STUPID _GIRL!" she screams as she yanks me up into a sitting position by my hair. I cry out, reaching up to grab her wrist, to try and pull her vice like grip from my hair. She let's go, roughly pushing me away. I manage to keep myself upright.

"W-what's h-h-happened?" I ask through my tears, as I rub the sore part of my scalp. I look up at her face, blotched red with anger, and await an answer. She shoves a piece of paper at my chest.

"_This_ happened," she spits at me. I look down at the crumpled paper, holding it out in front of me. My tears flood my vision, making it impossible to read the tiny printed words. I do recognise the Forks High School emblem at the top, however. When I don't say anything, only stare down at the page cluelessly, my fuming mother explains.

"It's a letter from your school, letting me know that _you _have been skipping lessons. You've been ditching classes and they wanted me to be aware of it." Renee's voice is full of anger.

"I-I-I don't... I didn't..." I try to defend myself, but I _did _ditch school and I _did_ skip lessons. After I'd accused Edward of putting up the posters only to find out he'd helped me, I left with three lessons left. And again, just this Tuesday, I left during lunch after falling in front of everyone.

"Y-y-you what?" my mother parrots my nervous stutter. "Are you going to tell me that you didn't? That this is all a lie?" she asks, pointing at the paper in my hand.

"I did," I whisper, dropping my chin to my chest.

"Louder please," she demands, cupping her hand around her ear.

"I did skip school," I say quietly, but louder than before. Renee's intake of breath is quick, sharp and scary. I have no idea what her next move will be.

"Why?" she asks, exasperated. I don't answer. I sit still, not responding in any way. _Bad idea, Bella. _My mother seethes with anger. Anger that only builds the longer I don't make a sound. I can almost hear her blood boiling. Her next moves are so quick, so unpredictable, that I don't get the chance to react or defend myself.

I sit frozen as she swoops down, rips her slipper off of her foot, pulls her hand back, and then swings it to come into contact with my face. She uses the sole of her slipper to strike me. I'm stunned, forced to fall back down to my pillow with the strength she uses. The left side of my face stings and burns as I raise my hand to hover over it. I'm crying now. Sobbing. Loud, body shaking sobs.

I think that's it. She'll leave me to cry it out now, as she always does. But she's not done. Her slipper free foot meets my stomach as she kicks me from the bed. I don't know how her legs are so strong, but as always, her kick sends me flying. I fall from my bed, my head hitting the floor as I land.

My vision blurs as my head swims, a dizzy spell taking over. "That'll teach you not to do it again!" she sneers. I listen to her footsteps as she leaves my room, slamming my door shut on the way out. And then my sobbing grows louder, my tears fall harder. I lay on my hard floor, with a burning face, a banging headache and a throbbing stomach.

I don't know how long I stay like that. Minutes. Hours. The time stretches at an undetermined rate as I remain a crumpled mess on my floor. Awhile later, I drag myself up to my bed. One heavy limb at a time. Inch by inch. Eventually I'm resting on my bed, staring up at my ceiling. There's no other way for me to lay. Either side is hindered by some injury; my right arm and now the left side of my face.

I don't attempt to sleep. I don't make any effort to tend to my new injury. I don't do anything besides lay ontop of my covers, arms at my sides, legs straight, looking up above me.

My mind is both full and empty at the same time. The feeling is strange. I've never felt it before. Thoughts of the happiness I felt only hours earlier flash into my mind every now and then, filling the void that has taken over, but they don't stay long. The thoughts feel like a weight in my brain, an awful reminder that hope isn't real. Any form of happiness I've been feeling, all the hope and peace I've had, has been fake. A trick.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Monday 15 May 2017_

I'm still awake when the early morning light begins peaking through the curtains. I'm still awake when the birds start their morning calls and the sound of engines from early risers travels through the streets. I'm still awake. I've been awake since my mother came into my room and attacked me. I've been awake this whole time. I don't know the exact time she came in, but I know that it was around 2:00AM. What she was doing checking her mail at that time I'll never know.

I stay in bed as I hear her get up at 5:00AM. I listen as she moves around; showers, dresses, eats, etc. I wait, praying that the time she leaves will be sooner rather than later. I wait and I wait. She doesn't check on me once. But did I really expect her to?

At 6:30AM, she's gone.

As soon as I hear her car driving away, I sit up. It's a struggle. I feel woozy, like water is filling my skull. My limbs ache and I have the worst case of nausea ever. I lift the hem of my top to look at my stomach. The area Renee's foot met is bright red. I tentatively press a finger into it, wincing at the slightest of pressure used. It's tender, too.

Feeling defeated and fed up, I drop my head to my hands, sighing. _Ouch. SHIT!_ I forgot about my face. It was numb before. I couldn't feel anything. As soon as my hand touched the left side of my face, however, the pain kicked in full force. It's tender, just like my stomach. I brush my fingers lightly over the side of my face, starting at the eyebrow. I apply the tiniest amount of pressure with the tips of my fingers as I move them down and around my face.

The pain is instant, from the moment I press into the very tip of my eyebrow. With a gasp of pain, I carry on. The pain is exactly the same from there to the bottom of my cheekbone. Tender and extremely strong. Just from feeling, I can sense that the damage covers the top half of the left side of my face. Based on the pain, I'm scared to look at it. But I'll need to soon.

With heavy, reluctant feet, I shuffle out of my room and to the bathroom. I stumble twice, having to catch myself on the walls beside me so I don't fall down completely. I make it to the bathroom, ducking away from the mirror before I have the chance to see myself. I sit down on the closed toilet lid, taking a few moments to pull myself together. I'm shaking, from nerves or exertion, I don't know.

Slowly, gripping the edge of the sink, I steer myself to stand in front of the mirror that's on the wall above it. _Crap_. It feels worse than it looks but it's still bad. You can easily see that something with a pattern hit my face, so there's no way I can pass it off as falling and hitting my face on the floor or something like that.

I have purple-red lines running parallel, from my temple and across my cheek. It's swollen slightly. The lines are more pronounced than the rest of the colouring, which is a light red, like the slap has only just happened.

What am I going to do? I _would_ skip school, but that's what got me into this mess. How am I meant to hide this? I'm shit at applying makeup. I can barely apply the little bit I do _now_ well. There's no way I'll be able to cover _this_ up. But that's the only way.

_I guess I better start learning._

Before I do anything else, I log my injuries. I go to my locked chest, unlocking it with the key and pulling out what I need. I take a picture of my stomach, then write the specific details on the back.

_Taken: 05/15/17_

_Happened: 05/15/17_

_Location: Stomach_

And then I do the same with my face.

_Taken: 05/15/17_

_Happened: 05/15/17_

_Location: Left side of face_

I then write a detailed description of what happened. By the time I'm done, my right arm is feeling tired, aching and throbbing. I need some pain medication.

I take some pills, then force myself to shower. I try to be as quick as I can, which isn't very quick at all. Once I'm done I spend the next ten minutes staring at my makeup I've just spread out over my dresser, wondering what the hell I should start with. I don't wear it a lot. I bought more than I ever use in case this situation ever arrised, but surprisingly, my mother never hits my face. She's always avoided it, probably to save her own back more than anything.

I decide to watch a YouTube video and hope for the best. Half an hour later, with barely anytime to finish getting ready, I've done it. And I haven't done a bad job, if I do say so myself. The bruise isn't noticeable, and you can't really tell I'm wearing any make up. I managed to blend it in well. _Thank God that lady at the store the day I bought it all helped me choose the right skin tones._

I finish getting ready now, brushing my teeth and then my hair, which I leave down, not feeling like I have enough energy to put it up. I throw on a pair of black Nike leggings, a charcoal grey baggy jersey t-shirt that has white stripes along the hems, and finally, _of course_, my charcoal grey Converse high tops. It's sunny outside, and hot - I can feel the heat inside - so I forego putting on a jacket. The sleeves of my t-shirt are long and reach my elbow, so I don't have to worry about the bruise on the back of my arm being noticed at all. At the last minute, I throw a black hooded jacket into my bag, just to be safe.

After packing some of the makeup into my bag - in case it's needed - I head down stairs, in a rush to leave. I'm cutting it quite short, thanks to the time I used applying the makeup. I ride as fast as my legs can move all the way to school. By the time I've locked up my bike, I'm sweaty and breathing heavily. I try to subtly check the side of my face, to see if the cover up has stayed intact during my cycle, in the selfie camera of my phone. I really do try to do it discreetly, but one or two people snigger as they walk past me.

I make it just in time, and walk through the door of my first class a second before the bell rings. As I pass the devil-duo I receive sneers from them both. Jessica's is the usual glare of hatred, but Lauren's stare is much more menacing, like it's fueled by more than just their desertation of me. I do my best to ignore it, but something sits unsettled in my stomach as I make my way to the back. Her eyes follow me the whole way, even long after Jessica has turned back to the front.

Miss. Wilkins arrives a minute after I sit down. The lesson moves along at a snails pace. Lauren turns to look back at me every few minutes, her mouth pulled into a frown as her eyes form tiny slits, barely wide enough to see she has an eyeball filling the socket.

Her behaviour continues into the next lesson. I arrive before she does, sitting down in my place at the back. When she enters, her eyes immediately lock onto me, the glare loathing and discerning.

When the class ends, I notice Lauren packing up at the same pace as me; unnecessarily slow. Even Jessica is giving her strange looks. I begin speeding up and walk out of the class merged into the last group of students to pass through the door. I rush to Biology, almost panting as I walk through the doors.

The classroom is empty, except for a familiar bronze haired boy. Edward looks up when I enter, a smile spreading across his face. He always sits near the windows, at one of the tables along the edge of the classroom. I could easily cut down the center of the room, passing Lauren and Jessica's usual table like I always do, but today, I don't. I smile as I look behind me, making sure no one is looking. Luckily no one is, and it will most likely be another few moments before someone else enters the room.

Instead of taking my usual route, I walk around the front desks, making my way closer to Edward. As a last minute thought, I sweep my hair over my left shoulder, hoping to shield some of my face. There's only one person that could maybe see the difference in my usually bare face to today, and that person is Edward.

His smile falters slightly as he looks behind me, a swirl of fear passing swiftly in his eyes. But he glances back at me again, his smile returning in full once he sees no one is behind me. "I'd watch out for Devil 1 today. She's got a problem," I say quietly, my smile growing as I speak.

Edward joined me in my naming of Jessica and Lauren last week, when I accidently let my names for them slip during lunch on Thursday while I was ranting about them. Jessica had stuck her foot out as I walked passed her, sending me crashing into the group of Seniors in front of me, who then proceeded to give me shit for my clumsiness. Ever since, Edward has latched on to the nicknames. It's just stuck. Lauren is now Devil 1, and Jessica is Devil 2.

"When has she _not _got a problem?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't like her very much.

"No. Today she's on form. If looks could kill I'd be dead," I say, glancing back towards the door. No one comes through. I look back at Edward. He's smirking.

"Shame. I was just starting to like you," he says smirking. I hear someone walking through the door, so I quickly move away from Edward, but not before sticking my tongue out at him. I hear him chuckle quietly as I rush to my table.

Unfortunately, the person to appear in the room is Lauren, followed by a confused looking Jessica. Lauren looks between me and Edward with narrowed eyes before pushing her shoulders back and strutting over to Edward. Her eyelashes flutter as she sits gracefully on the seat beside him.

His eyes grow wide, as do mine, when she leans closer to him and kisses his cheek, her hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. As she turns her head towards me, I drop my gaze to my bag, pulling out the items required. For some reason, my heart feels heavy and I have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's making me feel sick.

Lauren stays there the whole lesson, earning some baffled looks from Jessica and others in the room. I don't look over at the two of them sat beside one another.

I can't. And I don't know why.

**A/N: Let me tell ya, it was a little strange writing out the dates mm/dd/yy instead of dd/mm/yy, like I'm used to.**

**Next chapter will be up on Wednesday and will be the last Bella POV for a little while.**

**Thanks for reading, don't be afraid to leave a review and see ya next time!! :)**


	17. Chapter 17: 'a line of intimidation' (B)

**A/N: Last Bella POV for a while. If you hadn't noticed already, the POV's aren't balanced in this story. It does, and will, have more Bella chapters than Edward chapters. Anyway, please enjoy!**

_**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!**_

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_Lauren looks between me and Edward with narrowed eyes before pushing her shoulders back and strutting over to Edward. Her eyelashes flutter as she sits gracefully on the seat beside him._

_His eyes grow wide, as do mine, when she leans closer to him and kisses his cheek, her hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. As she turns her head towards me, I drop my gaze to my bag, pulling out the items required. For some reason, my heart feels heavy and I have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's making me feel sick._

_Lauren stays there the whole lesson, earning some baffled looks from Jessica and others in the room. I don't look over at the two of them sat beside one another. _

_I can't. And I don't know why._

Chapter Seventeen: 'a line of intimidation' (Bella POV)

_M_onday_ 15 May 2017_

When it's time for lunch I'm feeling fed up. The glaring hasn't seized. Through all of Biology and then French, Lauren regularly sent glares my way. I don't usually let things like this get to me, but today it's hard to ignore. It's constant, and highly irritating.

By the time I walk into the cafeteria, I'm pissed off. I practically stomp to the lunch line. I start fidgeting, unable to stand still as I wait to get food. Someone taps my shoulder, and I pivot on the spot to face behind me, ready to verbally rip the head off the person who dares to touch me. Unfortunately, they will be at the receiving end of my anger.

But when I'm face to face with those green eyes I've become so familiar with, my anger dissipates. It doesn't disappear completely, but it does lose its verocity. Edward smiles warily, slowly lowering his hand. "Calm down," he whispers, his eyes jumping around us. I nod slowly, gradually turning to face the front of the line, my back now to Edward.

I turn my face a bit to the side, so it still seems like I'm looking ahead but I can speak to Edward in the meantime. "What do you want?" I whisper, now also looking around. A couple of eyes from the center table are on us, including Lauren's. My hands clench involuntarily.

I feel Edward's fingers gently brush against the knuckles of my right hand. My hand immediately relaxes, and Edward's touch is gone. "You're angry. I can tell. I'm surprised no steam is coming out of your ears. Will you calm down?" he whispers heatedly from behind me.

I breathe out slowly, releasing some of the anger. And then I nod once. I feel him pull away, standing further back from me.

This is the first time I've really felt resentment towards the way we act around other people. It's ridiculous. Here we are, whispering, pretending we aren't conversing or even knowledgeable of each other, when in reality, we are friends. We speak to one another on a daily basis, we meet up at lunch times and have conversations about life and school and the people he has to pretend to like.

...Is he pretending though? It's a question I have to keep asking myself. He makes out to me like he can't stand to be near the girls of the group. The guys, apart from Jasper, aren't too bad apparently. They have their moments, but it's nothing in comparison to the nuisance of the girls. Today however, when Lauren kissed his cheek, he didn't pull away. He looked shocked, yeah, but did he look disgusted? Against it? No. He didn't. He _only_ looked shocked.

I wait for him to say something else, to speak to me again, but he doesn't. He stays silent. And when I reach the front of the line and grab the items I want, I quickly look behind me to find that he isn't even there anymore. As I walk to my table, I glance fleetingly at the center table, and there he is, sat in between Lauren and Tyler.

He looks up briefly, his eyes meeting mine for only a second. A small, almost imperceptible smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, and then it's gone; the eye contact, and the smile. I sigh, picking up my pace on the way to my table. I pick at my food, eating miniscule bites. I end up leaving most of it. With fifteen minutes of lunch left, I pull out my current read from my bag. I open it up, pull the bookmark out and sit silently as I read.

That feeling from before, the unsettling curdle in the pit of my stomach, returns. I glance up warily from my book, my eyes falling on the center table. Every single pair of eyes belonging to the occupants of that specific table is trained on me.

Every single one of them.

Most are looking at me with pure hate burning in their eyes. I can feel it attacking me from all the way over here, at the very edge of the room. A few are filled with mischief, evil shadows dancing in their eyes. And then there's one pair, regretful and _brimming_ with apologies. I tilt my head to the side ever so slightly, hoping no one but him reads the question in my eyes. I silently ask him what's the matter. He just lowers his gaze to his lap, his shoulders slumping.

My eyes scan the others again, just in time to see Lauren and Rosalie stand slowly, both motioning to the others with their hands. And then they all stand. Including my friend, though his movements are heavy and reluctant.

I drop my eyes quickly, returning my attention back to my book. _Please don't come over here, PLEASE don't come over here. _My heart races, thudding against my ribcage violently. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, the moisture of my palms a clear sign of my nerves.

The echoing sound of the tons of voices filling the cafeteria slowly seeps away, silence taking over. There's a buzz in the atmosphere, anticipation brewing in the air. Their bodies cast shadows across my table as they come to stand in front of me, a line of intimidation.

I lower my head further, wishing I could fold myself into the pages of the book that I'm gripping tightly in my hands. Wishing I could hide.

The book is suddenly ripped from my hands. My grip obviously wasn't tight enough. "What ya reading?" Lauren asks. I look at the group formed around me. The girls - Lauren, Jessica, Rosalie and Alice - are towering above me, stood to my left. The guys are spread out, not as close to one another as the girls are. Jasper and Tyler are standing rather close to me, directly to my right, while Emmett is a few feet behind them. Edward is stood opposite me, on the other side of the table.

I turn my attention back to Lauren and the girls after a long stare at Edward, who's eyes are downcast, unwilling to look at me. Lauren is glaring at me, my book folded harshly in her grasp. I cringe slightly at the sight. I'm a book lover, and I hate any mistreatment of literature.

"Can I have my book back, please?" I ask politely. Lauren smirks, looking at the cover. Her nose wrinkles as she reads it. I hold my hand out for the book, waiting. But, as I should have expected the moment it was stolen from my hands, she doesn't give it back willingly. She moves around me, first out of my sight as she walks behind me, before coming to stand in front of Tyler and Jasper at my right. Both of them move back to give her room.

My heart skips a beat, and then starts pounding harshly as my nerves build. I have no idea what they have planned, but it's not good. I just know it. I close my eyes for a second. _I will not retaliate. I will not fight back. I will not encourage them_. I repeat the words in my head like a mantra. I hold my hand out to Lauren again, turning away from the other three girls. "Lauren..." I begin, my voice steady even though it should be shaking right now. "Can I have it back?" My request is a little firmer this time, but still said with caution.

"Um..." she hums as she taps her chin with one finger, pretending to think about it. "No," she says casually, before they all giggle and laugh. All except for Edward.

I glance at him. Not purposefully. I need to look away from Lauren before I decide to harshly rip the book from her hand, like she did to me, so I look ahead of me and take some deep breaths. Edward is there, eyes now staring right at me. His hands are clenched by his sides, his jaw tense. And it makes me feel a tiny bit better about the situation, because I know that he's not liking this. He's angry. I offer him the smallest lift of my lips - the absolute tiniest smile. His hands relax slowly, but not completely.

"I wonder, Jessica," Lauren begins, her voice loud in my ear. I turn to watch her. Her face has flushed red, her hand almost crushing my book in a fist. She's angry. I know the signs, but I don't know why. Her eyes throw fire at me, her glare the most lethal I've ever seen it. "If Little Miss Freak Show here has any more books."

My head whips round to the other side of me as Jessica picks up my bag that was on the floor by my feet. I stand abruptly, my chair falling back, loudly hitting the floor. The evil smiles on their faces are what I've been trying to avoid. I've reacted now. _Shit_.

I couldn't help it, though. The thing is, they _can't_ go into my bag. They just can't. There_ is_ another book in there: my journal. "Oh. Well, Lauren, shall we have a look?" Jessica says, placing my bag on the table top, before slowly reaching for the clasp.

"Don't even think about it," I warn, stepping forward. Before I can get any closer to Jessica, I'm pulled back down to my seat. I look up, startled to see Tyler was the one to push me back down. He keeps his hand on my shoulder for a few seconds longer, the pressure warning me to stay down. My heart rises to my throat as fear consumes me. _Please don't hit me._

"Make sure you wash your hand, Ty. You don't want a disease," Rosalie sneers. They all laugh again. Tyler cringes as he removes his hand from my shoulder, before wiping it on his trousers. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. _How petty._

Jessica opens my bag. "I mean it. Don't," I warn again. She turns to me, a smirk on her lips. She starts with dramatics, her hand rising high in the air for everyone to see. She looks around at her friends stood around me, each and every one of them, apart from Edward, grinning, waiting. Others around the room, people watching from afar, cheer and clap. I can't take my eyes from Jessica's hand. And then, after she's satisfied with the attention, her hand starts it's descent. It lowers and lowers, gradually, until the tips of her fingers disappear into my bag. And I snap.

"I said _NO_! GIVE IT BACK!" I scream as I stand, thrusting my hands forward for my bag. Jessica laughs manically. They all do. She pushes my bag off of the table. I'm too slow, and don't catch it in time. It lands on the floor with a thud, tipping to the side. A few things fall out, including the makeup I'd shoved in this morning, and I quickly drop to my knees to pick them up.

"Listen here, Bitch," Lauren whispers in my ear. I've just finished putting the things back in my bag. I look up at her from my place on the floor. She's sat on the chair I was sat in, her head bent down to me. Everyone else is preoccupied, laughing and joking about what has just happened. Everyone else, apart from the only person who hasn't laughed. He's stood silently, eyes closed.

Lauren leans closer. "I've seen you looking at him. And I can promise you, he's not interested, so forget it," she says, her voice low and full of warning. _Who?_ I furrow my brow, completely confused. Then it clicks. That note I got last week, the one that told me to _'__stay away' _from someone… that was from her! This realisation shouldn't be shocking, but it is. Lauren sits back up, straight, in the chair, smiling evilly down at me.

I'm about to stand, to try and escape, but just as I start to pull myself up, I'm drenched in cold water. It happens so suddenly that I freeze in shock. My hands drop my bag as I shriek loudly and clench my eyes shut tightly. Everyone watching erupts with a united roar of laughter. Once no more water continues to fall, I open my eyes. I'm stunned, still on my knees as Lauren stands from the chair beside me.

I slowly follow suit, using the tables edge for support as I stumble to my feet. My head is lowered as I look down at my soaked clothes. I slowly turn to my left and see Rosalie with a big empty plastic bottle of water in her hands. She grins at me, a Cheshire cat like grin, stretching from ear to ear.

I raise my shaking hands to touch my head as I turn back to the table. My hair is dripping wet, sticking to my neck and face. _My face! Oh God! _The bruise! The _makeup_! The water will wash it off! My eyes widen as realisation hits me. I bend to pick up my bag and then push my way past Rosalie, Alice and Jessica. They let me pass them, thankfully.

I slip, catching myself on one of the nearby chairs as I try to escape in a rush. "Bella!" I hear Edward shout my name over the noise of the cackling students. I quickly glance at him as I make my escape, and I don't miss the look of concern on his face. Concern and apology. I don't have time to dwell on his expression, though, or what he wants. I have to get away from people before one of them notices what the makeup was hiding.

I slip and slide, running from the room. I skid around corner after corner until finally, I make it to the toilets. I crash through the door, almost crying out in relief when I come to the conclusion that no one is in here.

I stand in front of the mirror over one of the sinks. I look like I've been for a swim. My charcoal gray top is almost black in colour, sodden with water. My hair is sticking to my skin like glue. To my ultimate relief, the makeup is still somewhat intact. It's running down my face slightly however. I quickly rush to one of the cubicles and rip off sheet after sheet of toilet paper. I go back to the mirror and dab the paper all over my face, hoping to dry it. I try to be as quick as possible, before someone comes in here. Once my face is relatively dry, I pull out my makeup and make a rushed attempt at redoing my mornings hardwork.

It looks nothing like it did before, but it'll have to do.

Just as I pull the brush away from my face, the door swings open. One of the school nurses, Nurse Shelley I think her name is, enters. "Bella?" she asks me, unsure if I'm who she's looking for.

I nod silently, looking away from her as I rush to pack away the makeup, for some reason feeling a bit embarrassed. I look to her as she starts speaking. "A young man sent me to see you. Said you'd probably be in here," she tells me, her eyes running over my soaked form.

"Why?" I ask. I don't have to question who the young man was, that being fairly obvious.

"I'm not sure. He wouldn't say. What happened?" she asks. I shrug, looking down at my hands.

"Nothing," I mumble. I hesitantly look at Nurse Shelley to see she has her head cocked to one side. I sigh and cross my arms over my chest protectively. "Just teens being teens I guess," I grumble. "It's nothing to worry about. I'll be fine," I say, looking up at her once more with a shrug.

She looks at me silently for several seconds, before she sighs. "I would really like to know who did this to you." I don't respond in any way. I will not be the person who rats out Rosalie Hale and her click. They hate me enough already. "Okay," the nurse gives up and sighs again. "I'm going to write a note for you to be sent home. You can't stay in wet clothes for the rest of the day."

"Um, okay. Thanks," I answer.

"Come to the nurses office once you've finished up in here, okay?" I nod silently, and then she turns and leaves me alone. I slump back against the sink behind me, feeling very exhausted all of a sudden. At least I'm allowed to go home.

I briskly walk to one of the cubicles and lock myself in. I yank off my top, deeming it unwearable, and put on my black hooded jacket I'd luckily put in my bag this morning. I zip it up to the very top, not chancing any more humiliation, for example someone seeing my bra underneath.

I unlock the cubicle door and then wring out my wet top into the sink. Once it's drained as much as possible, I empty the front pouch of my bag of all the bits and pieces I store in there, and then fold the top down to the smallest it can go, before stuffing it into the front pouch. It's not a very big area to work with, but after a few attempts I've managed to zip it up almost all the way with the top inside.

For the next few minutes, while I wait for the bell signalling the start of the next lesson to ring, I dab at my hair with some more toilet paper, hoping it will absorb some of the moisture. The bell finally rings and I bin the last bit of paper I used before making my way out. I poke my head out the door and look left and right, praying the hall is empty. Fortunately, it is.

I then slip out of the toilets and run for the nurses office. Nurse Shelley is sat at the desk, waiting for me with the note in her hand when I arrive. She raises an eyebrow at me when I enter, a scowl fixated on her face. "There you are. I was starting to think you'd forgotten," she says, holding out the note to me. "Hand this in to reception on your way out, they'll sign you out for the rest of the day," she says with a sigh.

"Th-thank you," I stutter, taking the note from her hand. She stands and leaves the room without a "goodbye", entering one of the doors leading to the singular examination room.

I slowly make my way to reception, the events of lunch starting to settle in my mind. _That was a close one._ If I'd left it another minute, the bruise on my face would have become really visible and Edward would have definitely noticed. _Edward._ I'm thankful for him sending the nurse to me, though I don't know why he thought I'd need a nurse. I wasn't injured, just drenched and humiliated.

After handing in the note, I head out to the bike racks and unlock mine. I walk with it beside me as I exit the school grounds. I stop down the road from the gates and pull out my cell phone, sending a text to Edward.

**Thank you. - B**

I swing my leg over my bike and sit down. I am just about to set off when my phone buzzes against my ribs in the pocket of my jacket. I have a new message, a reply from Edward.

_Are you okay? - E_

**Yes. I'm going home. - B**

_That's good. Are you sure you're okay? - E_

**Yep. I'm alright. I'll talk to you later. - B**

I sigh, pocketing my phone before cycling home.

As I walk through the front door, I drop my bag on the floor and walk like a zombie into the back living room. I collapse onto the sofa and cover my face with a pillow.

And then I scream into it. I scream at the top of my lungs.

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**A/N: Let me know your thoughts on this one! Next chapter we'll see Edward's side of the story! See you Friday!**


	18. Chapter 18: Books are better than people

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Means a lot! Back to EPOV now. I tried minimising the overlapping of chapters (between events of last chapter and this one) as much as possible, but there is still a bit of repeat that couldn't be helped. Tell me if there's too much? This is a longerror one than recent chapters, but I couldn't cut it down any more than this. Sorry.**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Eighteen: 'Books are better than people' (Edward POV)

_Monday 15 May 2017_

This whole day has been the worst. It's been one thing after another. It started badly this morning, with both of my parents hounding me about lunchtimes. It seems Alice told them about me disappearing every Tuesday and Thursday. They aren't very happy with me. According to them, I should be making more of an effort to make friends. I should be choosing wisely, like Alice has. I should be following Alice's lead and example, because she always makes the right decisions. _Blah, blah, blah._

They haven't been too pleased with me lately. Ever since Rosalie's birthday party last Tuesday, where I made my escape. Alice told them about that too, and since then they've been extra annoying. Extra _controlling_. They want to know every little thing I'm doing. They pick at the things I'm wearing. They complain if I'm in my room too much or on my phone too often. It's a nightmare.

Leaving that party the way I did was absolutely necessary. All night, from the moment I arrived, I was taking orders from my sister. _Go make Lauren a drink, Edward. Go fetch me a towel, I've spilt some of my drink. Let Jess sit on your knee, Edward, she has no where else to sit_. She had plenty of places to sit. Alice was just being a nuisance, thinking I was there to wait on her hand and foot.

When she asked me to go get Lauren a drink for around the seventh time, I'd had enough. I was bored out of my mind and tired of being told what to do. It was a party - I should've been able to relax and enjoy myself. But I couldn't. It was ridiculous.

Leaving was the best decision I ever made. I had to walk home and when I saw that playground, I had this weird urge to go in. I was planning on sitting atop the small jungle gym, and it turned out I wasn't the only one with this plan.

She looked so relaxed up there. So different to how I'm used to seeing her. So different to how she had been earlier that day. Leaving that party gave me the perfect opportunity to right my wrong with Bella. To apologise.

A lot was solved sat on top of that jungle gym. A lot that should have been said way before that night. We finally put a name to our relationship: friends. And I felt like an ass for asking her to keep it a secret, but the truth is, it is what I felt was right at the time.

But I don't think that now. In fact, I'm pissed off with how our friendship is. I'm pissed off with myself for thinking it was a good idea. I want to be able to speak to her out in the open, to let people know that she has a friend, that she's not unapproachable or lonely. I don't even care about the attention it will bring me anymore.

I'll admit, last Monday, when we exited the music room and people stared at us for walking together, I was immensely uncomfortable. I've always blended well into crowds, in my old school and then here too. I was okay with the few stares during my first week here, seeing as I was the new kid and all, but that passed pretty quickly. To have so many people staring at me, judging me, put me well out of my comfort zone.

And as I looked at Bella, with her head down and eyes watching the floor as we walked, I finally understood why she acts that way whenever I see her in the halls. It finally dawned on me: she hides her face to try and hide herself. She tries to be as invisible as possible.

I was a major ass for not turning up at the library the following day. It was a terrible mistake on my behalf. A stupid decision that I regret wholeheartedly. Bella didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve me giving up on her - 'Cause that's ultimately what I did. I gave up on her.

I still don't know the full story as to why she is isolated from everyone. I know she was once friends with Rosalie and the group. I know that something happened to end that friendship. I don't know what though. I will find out, one day.

I also now know that Bella's father has passed. She's obviously still very affected, even though it's been several years. I can't imagine how she must be feeling. Though I bitch and complain about my parents often, I can't imagine losing either one of them, and at such a young age, too. When she broke down on top of that jungle gym, I was at a loss. In all the time I've known Bella she's appeared strong. Even through all the shit thrown her way; through the bullying and those God awful posters that almost destroyed what little progress I had made with her, through the stares and laughing and name calling, she's always stayed strong.

There's been cracks in her mask, when things have gotten too hard for her. But I've never seen her cry the way she did Tuesday night. I've never heard a person's sobs sound so painful. It tugged at my heart, to see and hear her like that.

I did the only thing that I could, I comforted her. I wrapped my arm around her, pulled her to me, and let her cry it all out. I was curious about what had happened to her father for him to die while she was so young, but I fought my own curiosity, not wanting to cause her any further grief.

My parents would never understand my want and need to spend time with Bella. They'll just see her as a bad influence, as someone beneath them and beneath _me._ In truth, the unwanted attention I faced last week isn't the sole reason for me asking Bella to keep our friendship a secret. My parents are more the cause than anything. I don't want to face their harassment over me hanging out with Bella. They'll make it such a miserable time that eventually, I'll probably distance myself from her, just to free myself of their nagging.

After I finally got away from my parents this morning, dodging all questions of where I go at the lunchtimes I don't spend with Alice and_ 'our'_ friends, it was time to head to school. The whole drive to school was filled with an interrogation from Alice. I haven't actually given her a reason for me disappearing two lunches a week. I haven't given anyone an explanation. I just don't turn up, and when they ask I shrug and start up a different conversation. It's been easier than I imagined it would be. I was half expecting Alice to follow me one of the days, but she only ever asks me.

The first few lessons of the day were boring, more so than usual. My bad mood continued to worsen as each lesson dragged by. Even Calculus, which I've now been moved to the advanced class of, was boring. That's a first for me, who loves all maths.

My day brightened some when Bella walked into Biology. I had rushed to class, wanting some time in silence before people started arriving. I did not expect Bella to be the first person, besides me, to enter the classroom. Her warning about Devil 1, as we've aptly named Lauren, wasn't forceful enough, as I soon found out. When Bella said Lauren had a problem, I assumed she was just jesting. Lauren always has a problem with Bella. She's always complaining about her, something I have to keep my mouth shut about. There are countless times where I've wanted to shut her up and tell her what I think, but I've held my tongue, wanting to keep up appearances of not caring.

I wish Bella had told me how serious Lauren's problem with her today was, maybe then I'd have been more prepared for her sudden appearance in the room. And the way she made a beeline for me. When she kissed my cheek I was shocked. Lauren has been very forward towards me, but she's never done that. I was shocked... and nauseous. But I had to hide that disgust.

Throughout the whole lesson Lauren was whispering to me. At first it was innocent questions, her asking for help with the class work. Then she begun asking if I had any crushes, if I fancied anyone. I struck down every question, and even ignored some. And then her whispering turned evil, the tone of her voice becoming lethal. And the reason for that was clear in her questions; _do you like the Freak? Is she why you won't ask me out?_ I was so shocked I almost fell out of my chair. Why would she ask me that? Me and Bella have been very good at hiding our friendship, and that's all it is, a friendship.

I realised that I had to squash any suspicions Lauren had, and quickly, because her finding out about that would only make Bella's school life worse, and I don't want that. Even though it pained me to say it, I told Lauren that I don't like Bella. _Who could like her? She's a freak?_, I had said. It felt like ash on my tongue, the words vile in my mouth. I felt awful for saying them, but they made Lauren happy and she backed off.

Throughout the following lesson, English, I was distracted, as well as bored. Lauren's question was filling my focus. _Do I like Bella? _Of course I like her,_ as a friend_, but is it more than that? Sure, Bella is pretty, beautiful in fact, even when she's scowling at me - which is quite often. Her eyes are my favourite feature of hers. When we first ran into each other in the hall that fateful day, her eyes were such a mystery to me, closed off in a way I'd never seen before. But as time has passed and we've gotten to know each other better, as she's grown more comfortable with me, her eyes have revealed more to me. More of her emotions and thoughts. It's amazing how they've gone from completely shut off to, bit by bit, opening up more to me.

She's funny when she wants to be, sometimes without even trying. Sometimes she'll say or do something in a completely serious manner, but it'll make me laugh and then she'll frown at me and I'll most likely laugh harder. She's smart. Very smart... except when it comes to math. I figured that out while she was doing some homework in the library two weeks ago at lunch and had answered most of them wrong. But most of all, she's strong - one of the strongest people I know.

_But do I like her as more than a friend?_

No, I don't think so. I pondered the question for the whole of English, and I came to the conclusion that I don't like Bella as more than a friend. She's great as a friend, and that's all she is. Nothing more. Nothing less. Being more could ruin what we already have.

I've just finished English and as I walk into the cafeteria, my eyes are drawn to the lunch line. I always secretly search for Bella, and this is where she normally is. Today it's the same; she's at the very back of the line, chin tilted to her chest as she transfers her weight from foot to foot repeatedly. I usually keep my distance from her in here, but something about her posture and her whole stance is wrong. I stop on my path towards my usual seat at the center table and begin walking slowly towards Bella.

I notice what the problem is as I draw closer. Her hands. They are fisted tightly at her sides, and her shoulders are tense. She's on edge about something. I start walking quicker and slide in line behind her before anyone else can. I glance around the room, and once I'm satisfied that no one is watching us, I tap her shoulder. She spins on the spot, her now familiar scowl planted firmly on her face. I almost roll my eyes when I see it; I'm so used to this facial expression of hers now. Her scowl softens when she sees it's me stood behind her, but it doesn't disappear completely.

I lower my hand and offer her a small smile. "Calm down," I whisper as I look around the room once more, anxious. I look back to Bella as she nods and slowly turns back around. Her hands are relaxed now, though her stance is still full of tension.

I see the edge of her face as she lightly turns her face to the right. "What do you want?" she whispers, and the volume of her voice mixed with the noise level in the room means that I almost miss her words. Her hands suddenly clench and I have this sudden urge to comfort her. I can't put my arm around her like I did in the playground a week ago, but I can offer a small amount of support. I step a tiny bit closer to her, catching a whiff of her strawberry scented shampoo - a smell I've come to love over the course of our friendship - as I do so. I cautiously reach forward with my right hand and brush my fingers across the back of her fisted hand. She relaxes it immediately.

"You're angry. I can tell. I'm surprised no steam is coming out of your ears. Will you calm down?" I whisper, my words heated and insistent. She nods and releases a long breath, her shoulders sagging slightly. Once I'm certain she's calmer, I take a large step back, removing myself from her vicinity.

Now that my worry about Bella's temper is over, other concerns take over, like people watching us. I look around the room and sure enough, one of my worst fears has come to life. Lauren, Jessica and Jasper are looking this way, and I don't know how much of our exchange they witnessed. Without another word to Bella, I exit the line and speed walk to the center table, planting myself in my usual seat between Lauren and Tyler.

I'm sat opposite Jasper today. He's staring at me, his look stern. I want to look away, but that would make me seem guilty, so I keep my eyes locked on his. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. The change in the way he's sitting, from balancing on the hind legs of his chair to now sitting fully forward, draws the attention of everyone at our table. They all grow silent, their eyes jumping between me and Jasper.

"What was that about, Edward?" he asks, his voice full of accusation. I shrug.

"What was what about?" I ask, feigning ignorance.

"Your conversation with _her? _What was it about?" he asks, nodding his head disapprovingly toward Bella, who's currently passing our table. My lips instinctively begin to form a smile as my eyes fall upon her, but my mind is quick to catch up with my natural instincts and I am hasty to look away and drop my smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I answer, proud with myself for keeping my voice neutral and strong. Jasper's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. "And even if I did," I continue, sitting back in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest, "I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Edward!" Alice hisses at me. I glance at her with a bored expression on my face, before looking back to Jasper.

"Were you talking to her, Edward?" Lauren asks, her voice intentionally small, like she's trying to sound innocent. She places her hand on my arm gently. I turn my face towards her and am met with the fluttering of her eyelashes.

"Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. I don't see how it matters to any of you," I say, turning to glance around at them all. Each of them are frowning. Lauren's hand falls from my arm. _Seriously?_ What is so wrong with me speaking to Bella? This is starting to get on my last nerve. I feel the words '_I'm her friend, deal with it!_' on the tip of my tongue.

"You see, Edward," Rosalie begins, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, just like her brother, "it does matter to us. It matters because you are one of us... and she is not."

My mouth falls open as I stare at her. "_One of us_?" I copy incredulously. _What does that mean?_

"She's not one of us. She's the farthest thing from one of us someone could get," Rosalie answers, a light laugh following her words.

"And how did you figure that out?" I ask, leaning forward to sit in the same position as her and Jasper, my confidence increasing with every passing second. Or is that anger?

"Let me put it this way, Edward... We are all from _complete _families, where one or even _both _of our parents are in a high positioned job. We _belong_ together. We are meant to be seen together, to seem united. And unfortunately, or _f__ortunately_, whichever way you want to look at it, Bella does not belong," she says with a shrug. Alice and Jessica giggle, while Jasper smirks evilly. I don't miss the way Emmett's head drops ever so slightly, but he stays silent.

_All from_ _complete _families...

I feel a sudden spike of anger hit me. I lean forward and lower my voice to a harsh whisper, not wanting anyone else to overhear the conversation taking place at our table. "You're discriminating against her because her father is _dead_?" I hiss the last word, my disgust crystal clear in my voice.

"How do you know about that? None of us have told you," Lauren asks, glancing round at all of her friends to clarify. They all shake their heads.

I shrug, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Word travels quickly in a small town." I can't let them know Bella was the one to tell me.

Rosalie raises an eyebrow. I see Emmett fidget uncomfortably beside her. "No," she says, replying to my question. "That was unfortunate circumstances. Officer Swan single-handedly stopped a serial thief that was breaking into multiple homes a night to steal valuables. It was a scary time for everyone one in Forks, and he was the one to catch the guy. After that, Officer Swan became a big deal. It made the news and everything. Everybody loved Officer Swan. He was a cherished member of the community. His daughter, on the other hand, is not."

My mind registers the new information, _Officer Swan_. I store that away for another time.

"But you were all friends with her once upon a time. You've said so yourself," I point out. Rosalie rolls her eyes.

"We were. Her _father _was a highly appreciated police officer at Forks Police Department. It was right that she was seen with us. It was _expected_. And back then, Bella was a different person. She was fun to be around, she _fit in_ with us. Now that her father has passed she just doesn't fit. It's as simple as that."

I can't believe what I am hearing. It almost seems impossible. I don't care what she says, they are discriminating against Bella because of the death of her father. _It's as simple as that_. I feel physically sick to be sitting with these people. I look down at the table and decide to keep quiet. I'll get no where arguing with Rosalie. It's obvious she sees no wrong in any of this.

"The bitch still thinks she's one of us, though," Lauren pipes up. Everyone of us turns to look at her, but her focus is firmly on Bella, who's sat across the room.

"Why do you say that?" Alice asks.

"She thinks she can worm her way inbetween us, get back in our good books," Lauren explains, anger lacing her words. I feel indescribable fear for Bella in my stomach. This isn't going to go well, I just know it.

"Why? What has she done?" Tyler asks.

"What has she _not_ done?" Lauren asks with venom. "She's constantly looking at us, the _Creep_. Watching us. And she tries to talk to Edward. That's unfair. He's only just joined us, so he's still learning what's right and what's wrong. It's not his fault." She turns and pats my arm with a sympathetic smile on her face.

She actually believes her words. I frown and look at the others sat around the table. Rosalie and Jessica look thoughtful, like Lauren's words make sense. This is unbelievable. "I say we teach her a lesson," Jessica says. They all perk up at this, turning to look at Bella. I can't be the only one that hears Emmett's sigh.

I also stare over at her. She looks so innocent. Harmless. Reading her book and minding her own business.

It's as if she feels our gazes on her. She looks up warily. Her eyes widen in fear, yet when she looks at me, there's question in them. That fear I feel for her grows, spreading, coursing with my blood through my veins. I look away quickly, staring down at my lap as my shoulders slump. _Coward!_ I feel sick.

"Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?" Rosalie asks.

"I've got an idea," Lauren states. Her and Rosalie stand at the same time, and then they urge the rest of us to stand. I do so, reluctantly. I feel like warning Bella, but would that make things worse?

"Come on, Edward. Smile. It's just a bit of fun," Jasper says joyfully. _Fun? Yeah, for you maybe_. I follow the group with sluggish steps, my already bad mood darkening further.

The following events are disastrous, much worse than I imagined. The whole time my mind is shouting at me to step in and defend Bella, but for some reason the rest of me doesn't cooperate. My anger rapidly builds the longer Lauren refuses to return the book to Bella. When she glances at me I can tell she's trying to stay calm. Her composure amazes me, and when she offers me a small smile, my amazement heightens. I can't believe the strength of this girl.

Her composed state begins to break, however, when they threaten to go into her bag. I stand motionless, helpless as Bella shouts at them, as Tyler holds her down. The fear and anguish on her face has my heart breaking into two. This isn't fun. This is evil.

I think all is over, once they push her bag to the floor and allow her to pick it up. I'm too preoccupied with closing my eyes and sighing in relief, that I don't notice Rosalie holding the bottle of water. I open my eyes just in time to see her tip it over Bella's head. I step forward immediately, prepared to intervene, but it's too late. The damage is already done. The water falls and falls, all over Bella. She's in complete shock. _I'm _in complete shock. The noise levels of the room increase as everyone laughs at her.

I want to do something, to say something. I want to help her. But my body is frozen with shock. It's only as Bella suddenly starts moving, pushing past the girls, that I break out of my stunned trance. She's soaked, her clothes and hair dripping with water. Bella's never been steady on her feet at the best of times, and the water only makes that worse. When she slips, narrowly managing to support herself with a nearby chair, I instinctively react, stepping forward to offer my aid. It's useless though.

"Bella!" I shout, wanting to ask her to wait, to slow down before she hurts herself. She turns to face me for a split second, and in that short moment I see a hint of redness on the side of her face. _Did one of them hit her when I wasn't looking?! _I freeze, not advancing closer to her as she races from the room.

After several moments of silence from me, listening to the thunderous laughter filling the room, I snap out of my shock once more, shaking my head to try and focus. I start forward again, ready to search for Bella.

"Edward!" my sister's shout stops me. I turn to her slowly, my eyes squinted into slits. I'm pissed off. _Very _pissed off. The people in the room begin to hush slowly, following the example of Rosalie and the group. "Where are you going?" she asks me, side glancing at Rosalie with wide eyes.

"Where do you think? Someone has to make sure she's okay," I answer, pointing to the double doors Bella ran through not too long ago. Some gasps are audible around the room.

"That's not your job," Lauren says. I shrug.

"Maybe not, but I want to," I say. Lauren gasps now, raising her hand to her throat.

"Edward, brother, don't be ridiculous," Alice says, her voice unusually tender when speaking to me.

"I'm not being ridiculous, Alice. I'm just looking out for a friend," I reply, not even thinking about the words as I say them. No regret follows my admission. All I feel is like a tonne of weight has suddenly been lifted from my shoulders.

"She's not your friend," Lauren and Rosalie say simultaneously, their tones warning me. I walk around the table towards them, stepping around the puddle of water on the floor. I walk past Rosalie and my sister without a glance their way. I stop in front of Lauren and take her hand in mine. She smiles at me, batting her eyelashes and biting her lip. I pick her hand up until it hovers between us, and then I take the bent book from her grasp, dropping her hand afterwards. Her smile turns into a frown.

"Yes she is," I say quietly. She sucks in a quick breath of air. I then turn and run for the doors, ignoring the shouts of my so-called _friends. _My mind only wants one thing now, to know where the hell Bella is.

First I check the library, but no one is in there. Next I check the music room, walking past Bella's locker - which she is not at - on the way. The music room is vacant too. _Shit_! Where could she be? I rattle my brain for an idea as I walk slowly back to her locker.

Then another possibility hits me. I think back to when I was younger, when me and my family were on vacation in Hawaii and a waiter tripped and drenched my sister in drinks from his tray. She ran straight for the nearest restroom without a second thought. _It's worth a shot._

I realise as I near the toilets that I can't enter the girls' one. I quickly change course and head for the nurses office. I tell the first one I see that a girl named Bella is in the toilets and she needs attending to. The nurse shouts at my retreating form, asking me for more of an explanation, but I'm already focused on checking the bike racks at the front of the school. Maybe she just left; she has done so a couple of times in the last few weeks.

Once I'm sure she's still in school, and I can't think of anywhere else to check, I decide to head to my next lesson. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket about ten minutes into the lesson. I wait a couple seconds for my teacher to be facing the board as he writes something down, and then I pull it out of my pocket, keeping it under the table as I check it. It's a text message from Bella.

**Thank you. - B **

I silently sigh in relief, more weight lifting from me. She's okay, and I must have been correct. She was in the toilets. I quickly text her back.

_Are you okay? - E_

**Yes. I'm going home. - B**

Oh thank goodness. She doesn't have to endure the rest of the day in wet clothes.

_That's good. Are you sure you're okay? - E_

**Yep. I'm alright. I'll talk to you later. - B **

I frown down at my phone, before quickly pocketing it as the teacher's voice draws closer. Luckily he didn't notice me texting. Her last message was very clipped, almost too clipped.

She's not okay. I just know it.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

After school I don't take a ride home with Alice. I walk right past her, Lauren and Jessica, who are all stood around Alice's vehicle, and walk to the gates. It'll be a long walk home, but I don't care. I'd much rather walk than sit in a car with my bully of a sister. And besides, there's something I have to do before I go home.

I struggle to find it at first, having only been there once. I get lost around fifteen minutes into my walk and start wandering around like a lost pet. Just when I'm considering just giving up, having lost all hope, I stumble across a familiar playground. A few small children are running around within the rusty gates this afternoon, shouting and laughing, free of all worries as they have fun playing.

Now I'm here, I know the way. I smile as I walk past the children, enjoying the sound of their happiness. Their laughs slowly start to fade as I put more and more distance between myself and the playground. It's not hard to remember the way now. It was just getting onto this familiar path that was the problem.

In no time at all I reach the house, it's white exterior, green steps and brown door looking no different now in the daylight, then they did a week ago in the dark.

I see Bella's bicycle chained up to the mailbox post at the edge of the front yard. There is no car in the drive. After taking a deep breath of courage, I walk across the lawn and ascend the porch steps. I hesitate for only a second before knocking.

Two minutes pass and there is no answer. I knock again, feeling slightly embarrassed. I'm just about to turn around and head home, when her small voice comes through the door.

"Who is it?" Bella asks, sounding timid.

"Bella? It's me... Edward," I answer, pausing before saying my name, not knowing if she recognises my voice.

"What are you doing here?" she asks after a long silence.

"I wanted to make sure you're really okay."

"I'm fine, Edward. I already told you," she sighs. I roll my eyes.

"I know, I just..." I stop, not sure if I should continue.

"You just what?" she asks through the door.

"I... I'm sorry," I say finally, dropping my head to my chest. I suddenly feel guilty. I don't know what for exactly. For not defending her earlier? For not stepping up sooner and letting people know we're friends?

My head snaps up when I hear the door being unlocked from the inside. It slowly opens, revealing a now dry Bella. Her hair is dry, in a braid pulled over her left shoulder. She's no longer dressed in the soggy clothes of before. Now she's wearing a black hoodie and black sweatpants, with nothing on her feet. I've never seen her bare footed before.

She stands in the doorway, her hand gripping the handle tightly as she glances at anywhere but my face nervously.

"Why are you saying sorry? You did nothing wrong," she says, her voice quiet. I don't take my eyes from her face.

"I'm sorry because... well, because... I..." I don't know how to answer. My stuttering makes Bella finally look at my face. My eyes automatically jump to the side of her face, where the redness was earlier, but there's nothing there now. Her face looks normal. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me.

"You don't know why you're feeling sorry, do you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

I look down at my shoes guiltily before glancing back up at her with a small smile on my lips. "Um, no. I don't," I say, chuckling. A small smile, matching mine, breaks onto her face. She rolls her eyes, the smile not leaving her face.

"You know how much I hate that," she sighs dramatically.

"Yeah. Sorry.'" I mumble before freezing. _I can't believe I just apologised again_. I face plant with my palm as she cocks her head to one side, smirking at me. We both chuckle quietly.

"There's nothing for you to feel sorry for, Edward. What happened today wasn't your fault," she tells me, her serious mood returning. I nod, not truly believing her words. I step back and then move down a couple steps, before sitting down on the porch. After a couple second pause, Bella steps out passed the threshold of her front door and comes to sit beside me.

I can feel her eyes on the side of my face, but I keep my gaze forward facing. "I mean it, Edward. It wasn't your fault."

I sigh, finally turning my head to meet her eyes. "I know, I just... I felt like I should've done more. I should've stopped them from coming over to you or something."

Bella laughs humorlessly and I feel my brows pull together in confusion. She looks at me like I'm a dumb shit. "Oh come on, Edward," she says. "You can't stop them once they've set their mind to something. They would have come over to me in any circumstance. Don't beat yourself up about it." She smiles at me. I smile back but offer no reply.

We sit in silence for several minutes before I speak up again. "I didn't know what they had planned. I swear."

"I know," she admits with a small nod. "I don't even think they had it planned until they did it." She starts picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "The book thing was just childish... it was what happened _after_ that got under my skin," she tells me in a hushed voice. She scoffs, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Or should I say_ on_ my skin."

I chuckle humorlessly. Then I remember. "Oh yeah, that reminds me. I have something for you," I say happily. I pull my bag off of my back and rest it on the step below me, between my legs. I quickly open it up and pull out her book that I'd kept at the top. "Here," I say, handing it over to her. Her eyes light up immediately.

"You got it back! Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, snatching the book from my hand before throwing her arms around my neck. I pat her back at first, slightly stunned, before I push away the shock and wrap my arms around her, returning her hug. I close my eyes as I tighten my arms around her slightly. I don't miss how Bella tenses up in my arms as I do so. _Shit! Too far?_ She pulls away slowly, her arms unwinding from around my neck and her hands falling to her lap, the book in hand.

"Good choice," I say in an attempt to break the sudden tension that has formed between us, pointing to the book. Her eyes widen as she looks from me to the book and back, repeating the motion several times.

"You've read '_Little Women'_?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes," I nod. "My parents own many books and I've spent a lot of my childhood working my way through them. Books are better than people, I find to be the case... _most _of the time," I say, adding the final comment quickly.

She blinks up at me, seemingly astonished. "Uh-huh," she replies, her voice full of awe. She suddenly blinks rapidly, shaking her head like she's trying to clear her mind. "Um, I mean, yes. I completely agree. Books have helped me through _a lot _of hard times," she says, smiling down at the book in her hands with a small, wistful smile.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I mumble an apology to Bella as I pull it out. _Shit!_

**Where are you? - Mom**

"Um, I should be going..." I say as I reluctantly start to stand. I grab Bella's hand and help her stand beside me. She offers me a small smile in thanks once she's upright, dropping my hand with an awkward smile. Bella stands on the top step with me stood one below her.

"Before you go," she begins, her tone turning curious, "what happened after I left?" I chuckle nervously, lifting my hand to run it through my hair. Bella narrows her eyes at me and I drop my hand immediately. It seems she's picked up on my nervous habit over the last few weeks.

"I, um, kinda maybe let the cat out of the bag," I say.

"_Kinda maybe?_" Bella asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah," I say before clearing my throat. "I may have let them know that we are friends. Please don't be mad!"

Bella stares at me, her face unchanging for several seconds, before a blinding smile slowly appears on her face. "Really?" she asks, hope filling her voice, making me feel like even more of an ass for asking her to keep it a secret.

"Yes," I answer, grinning now, too.

"So we don't have to hide anymore?" she asks, hopeful still.

"Not if you don't want to. I mean, I'll still have to spend *some* time with my sister and her friends, to keep my parents happy. But we don't have to hide our friendship anymore," I tell her. Her smile falters momentarily when I mention the part about my sister, but it soon returns in full by my last word.

"That's fine. I can live with that! Oh, this is fantastic!" she exclaims, bursting out in a girly squeal, which is completely out of character for Bella. She doesn't seem to care though. "We can hang out away from school now, too," she says. My good mood diminishes a bit.

Her face falls as she watches_ my_ face fall. "What?" she asks cautiously.

"It's my parents," I sigh. "I don't know how they'll feel about me hanging around with you. I don't care what they think, and it won't stop me... I just don't want them to make you feel uncomfortable when, or if, you come round," I admit sadly.

"Oh," is all Bella says. She's silent for several seconds, thinking. "Well, maybe we could tell them you're tutoring me?" she suggests.

"Tutoring you?" I ask.

"Yeah. I'd like to be able to come round at _some_ point, so maybe we could use it as an excuse. And we both know I could use the help with math. It's the perfect story. We could even make it official with the school. It may help you earn some extra credit, which your parents can't complain about and it would be a big help to me. I'm really struggling."

_Huh. That's not a bad idea_. I nod my assent, my broad smile returning. "Okay. Sounds like a plan."

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**A/N: I love the following Edward chapters. Actually, I have loved every minute of writing this story as a whole! And I am ****_still_**** loving it - that's right, I'm not done with it yet!**

**What did you think of this chapter? Of Edward's conversation with Rosalie's click? Of his talk with Bella at the end? Do you think the tutoring idea will pay off? Let me know your thoughts, opinions and predictions in a review! The next chapter leads straight on from this one!**

**As always, thanks for returning to read and I'll be back Monday with Chapter 19! **


	19. Chapter 19: 'Devil seat on wheels'(EPOV)

**A/N: Brand new week and 3 brand new chapters! Exciting! This one leads straight on from chapter 18, hence the _Previously_. I hope you enjoy! See you at the bottom ;)**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_"We can hang out away from school now, too," she says. My good mood diminishes a bit. _

_Her face falls as she watches _my _face fall. "What?" she asks cautiously._

_"It's my parents," I sigh. "I don't know how they'll feel about me hanging around with you. I don't care what they think, and it won't stop me... I just don't want them to make you feel uncomfortable when, or if, you come round," I admit sadly._

_"Oh," is all Bella says. She's silent for several seconds, thinking. "Well, maybe we could tell them you're tutoring me?" she suggests._

_"Tutoring you?" I ask._

_"Yeah. I'd like to be able to come round at _some_ point, so maybe we could use it as an excuse. And we both know I could use the help with math. It's the perfect story. We could even make it official with the school. It may help you earn some extra credit, which your parents can't complain about and it would be a big help to me. I'm really struggling." _

Huh. That's not a bad idea_. I nod my assent, my broad smile returning. "Okay. Sounds like a plan."_

Chapter Nineteen: 'Devil seat on wheels' (Edward POV)

_Monday 15 May 2017_

I think about Bella's idea the rest of the way home. It's actually a pretty smart idea. My parents can't complain about me tutoring someone, especially if it earns me extra credit like Bella pointed out, and it will mean that we'll be able to spend more time together which is a bonus.

If I'm being completely honest, even though I'm happy with the way things turned out today - regarding me finally admitting to my sister and the others about Bella, _not_ about the whole water incident - I am quite nervous with how things are going to play out in the aftermath. Rosalie and the others seem really serious about their beliefs, even if they are absolutely preposterous. I don't know how far they'll go to make me realise that _'Bella isn't one of us',_ as they put it.

As I near the road that turns down to my house, my nerves get the better of me and I have to stop for a second, to compose myself. I'm nervous because I really don't want my parents to paint mine and Bella's friendship in a negative light. I'm sure Alice has already told them about it.

I finish the walk to the house, dawdling along the road and across the large driveway. Alice's car is parked outside the garage doors, instead of inside, which is strange. At the last minute, I decide to enter the house through the garage, using the side door. Hoping to go unnoticed for a little while longer, I speed walk passed my mom's car and to the staircase at the other side of the garage. Dad isn't home yet.

I reach the bottom step with a sigh of relief and continue to my room, passing through the media room and stepping out into the great room. I'm stopped by the sight of my mother and sister sat on the large, L-shaped leather sofa, facing the fireplace. I sigh again, though this time it's not in relief, and stay stood by the door.

"Hello, Edward," my mother greets, not smiling.

"Mother," I reply stiffly.

"Where have you been?" she asks, her tone matching mine. Stiff and restricted.

"Walking," I answer, not losing eye contact with her.

"Why didn't you come home with Alice?"

"Because I felt like walking," I say with a shrug.

"Well, if you _did_ walk home, it shouldn't have taken you this long to get here," my mother muses out loud.

"I took the long way," I answer defensively.

"Aaah, the long way." My mother sighs as she stands slowly, brushing her hands down the front of her pale blue blouse. "And did you happen to stop off anywhere during your walk _the long way _home?"

"Um, no," I answer. I'm expecting to feel nervous, but I don't. I think I've finally reached my wits end with feeling like I've committed a crime by simply having a friend my parents don't approve of.

"Really? You didn't happen to stop off at, oh I don't know, your new _f__riends _house?" she asks. _T__hanks, Alice!_

"No. I didn't. I just... I felt like taking the long route. What's the problem?"

"Nothing... there is no problem. I just think you, me, and your father need to sit down together and have a little chat. Tonight, perhaps?"

"Uuuh, sure. Okay?" I answer, feeling slightly nervous now my father has been mentioned.

My mom nods and exits the room, heading upstairs to do something. When I turn back to Alice, I see that she's staring at me with narrowed, calculative eyes.

"So I'm guessing you told Mom about my _new friend_?" I ask her, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes. It was only right," Alice says, standing from her place on the sofa. "She and Dad need to know of your choices. How can they help you if they don't know what's going on?" she asks.

"Alice, I don't need any help," I whisper-yell, stepping closer to her. She walks forward until she's stood directly in front of me.

"Oh, Edward. Let's not pretend here. It's clear that Rosalie, Lauren, Tyler or _any _of the others aren't going to get through to you, so maybe Mom and Dad can be the ones to knock some sense into this." She reaches up and ruffles my hair with her hand, a smile on her face. I bat her hand away, stepping back and out of her reach.

"I don't need sense knocking into me, Alice. I can make my own decisions," I retort.

"Whatever you say, little brother," she says as she turns to head for the stairs Mom has just ascended. "But at least _l__isten_ to what our parents have to say. They know what they're talking about."

I sigh and look away from her, waiting for her to disappear before I make a run for my room. "Oh, and Edward?" I reluctantly glance at Alice who has stopped near the bottom of the stairs. "Jessica and Lauren are coming for dinner tonight. Mom and Dad are letting them stay over so we can study together."

"Okay?" I question, not knowing how this is important to me, but already feeling the dread of what dinner will be like tonight settle within me. Alice smiles and turns to leave, practically skipping up the stairs. I shuffle to my room, having to restrain myself from slamming my door behind me. I throw my bag into my open closet and walk straight into my bathroom. I strip and step into the shower, emerging myself in the hot spray of the water.

_What a day!_ I can't wait for this one to be over. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

I wash quickly after wasting most of the hot water doing nothing. I step out and wrap one of my towels around my waist. After changing into a pair of denim jeans and a grey t-shirt, I retrieve my bag and sit at my desk, beginning with some homework.

I've been at it for no more than twenty minutes when there's a knock at my door. "Come in," I call out. My door opens and Bev comes into view, walking in slowly as she holds a laundry basket.

Beverly Howard, or Bev as I've known her my whole life, is our housekeeper. She has been working for my parents since my mom found out she was pregnant with Alice. Bev and her husband, Alan, moved here with us from Chicago. They both lived in the guest house above our old garage, back in Chicago.

Alan was our gardener. He recently gave that job up however, so when we moved to Forks, he decided to purchase one of the small, vacant shops on Main Street. When I was younger, he would always tell me about the florist he wanted to open, and now he can do that. To thank him for his lengthy service with us, my parents paid for a majority of the asking price for the shop. Alan and Bev live in the apartment above the shop now. It suits them better, I think. Alan can run the shop and Bev can still easily come to the house to do her usual work.

I was actually quite surprised when I found out my parents had helped pay for their shop and apartment. They've never done something so generous, but it's the least they could do, seeing as Bev and Alan have been so loyal over the years.

Bev is here most days, having only the Sunday off each week. Some days she's here for only an hour, and others she's here most of the day. My parents told her they'd cut her weekly hours after me and my sister got older, but she insisted on staying here with us. I'm glad she did, because she's one of the good qualities about my home life. She's been a part of it since birth. She was also a nanny of sorts, as well as our housekeeper. She and Alan are family, in my opinion at least.

"Hey, Bev," I greet her as I stand from my desk. "Need any help?" I ask, walking towards her. Her sharp look at me, the narrowing of her hazel eyes, has me stopping mid step.

"What are you on about, boy? I don't need no help. You know this." She tuts and rolls her eyes as she walks into my bathroom. She continues to speak, loud enough for me to hear from the neighbouring room. "How many times have I told you to stop asking me that? It's an insult. Me? Need help? _Pfft. _Please! I've been looking after you for so long, I could do it with my eyes closed."

"Sorry for asking, Bev." I chuckle at her ranting. She comes out of my bathroom, laundry basket fuller after emptying my laundry bin, shaking her head of ink black hair at me.

"You better be. I don't wanna hear another question like that come from your mouth. I'm fine to do it all on my own," she says with a huff, rolling her shoulders. The basket must be a bit heavy. I hold my hands up in surrender, sliding back to my chair and resuming my homework.

A couple of seconds later I hear a throat clearing. I glance up to see Bev looking at me, blush highlighting her freckled cheeks. "Edward, would you be a dear and open the door for me?" she asks quietly, her tone drastically changed from a second ago.

I raise an eyebrow as I lean back in my chair. "I thought you didn't need my help. Didn't you _just_ tell me that you're fine to do it all on your own?" I ask with a smirk. She narrows her eyes at me again, amusement dancing within them.

"Don't get smart with me. Now, get up and open this door." She huffs again. I laugh out loud now, a stretching grin on my face as I hop up out of my chair and open the door for Bev.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

My mother called me to dinner almost fifteen minutes ago. After five minutes of waiting, I realised it was just a ploy to get me out of my room and up here, mingling with the girls.

This evening, it seems I won't be choosing where I want to sit for dinner. My initial plan to distance myself has been thwarted by my sister and her friends. My dad's seat is vacant; he's still in his office after arriving home from work less than an hour ago. My mom's seat is also empty, while she cooks in the kitchen. My sister is sat in her usual place, opposite Mom's. I've been forced next to Alice, with Jessica to my left and Lauren opposite me, beside my mom.

I didn't think today could get any worse. But I was wrong. I've been sat patiently waiting for my food. I have Jessica beside me, leaning forward with her hair dangling all over the table (something I hate) so she can talk to Alice on the other side of me.

And then I have Lauren to contend with. I have had to result to tucking my feet under my chair because she wouldn't stop trying to play footsie with my under the table.

My patience is slowly wearing thin, the more that Jessica leaves her hair on the table, the longer Lauren stares at me "_seductively_" or whatever it is she is trying to accomplish.

"No way!" Jessica squeals. "Is that true?!" She practically shouts in my left ear after Alice tells her something about a member of a girl band they like going solo or something. I'm not really paying attention. I close my eyes, trying in vain to hide my wince at the high decibels.

"Oh, I forgot to ask you both. Where's a good beauty salon near here? I need to get my nails done," Alice asks them.

"You're best to try _Beauty and the Beach_ in Port Angeles. That's where we go. Look! I got these done last weekend," Jessica advises, stretching her hand in front of me to show Alice her nails.

I snap after that. "Okay, seriously?! Would you like me to move out of the way. Because I'd be happy to sit over _t__here_," I say, pointing to the other end of the table, far from anyone else.

"No!" All three of them exclaim at once. This only angers me further. "You're staying where you are, Edward," Alice orders as Jessica pulls her hand back to _her _side of me.

I almost growl in frustration as they continue drabbling on about facials and massages. I slam my elbows down onto the table, thrusting my hands into my hair as I grumble curses under my breath.

"Edward, stop with the language. We have guests." My father's scolding me makes me raise my head.

"And remove your elbows from the table, too, Edward. That isn't proper manners. You know this," my mother reprimands me. I sigh quietly, slowly removing my elbows from the table and putting the appropriate contrite look on my face, mumbling out an apology.

"Would anyone like a drink?" my mother asks to the room. My father speaks up, asking for a water, while the girls all wave off the question, gesturing to their full or partially full glasses in front of them. My mother begins walking away.

"I'll have a water, too," I shout to her retreating form, wanting to get my order in, even if it seems she was going to forget getting my answer. I get no reply.

"So, ladies, what is it you will be studying this evening?" my father asks, being his ever-so charming self. I have to really restrain from rolling my eyes. As my sister, Lauren and Jessica go on to explain their plans for tonight, which I'm sure they won't stick to, I tune out. I lift my cell phone from my pocket and see I have one new message sent almost half an hour ago. From Bella.

**How's your evening going? - B**

A small smile involuntarily appears on my face. I keep my phone near my lap, hidden beneath the table as I reply.

_The devil-duo are here for the night. How do you think? - E_

I lock my phone and hide it on my chair under one of my thighs. Looking back up I see they are all still engrossed in their conversation. My mom brings through our drinks, luckily with a glass of water for me too. And then a few minutes later, she brings in the dinner.

She's gone all out this evening; Beef Wellington with roasted potatoes and asparagus. Chatter fills the room as everyone begins eating. I keep quiet, not wanting to talk to anyone in particular. The devil-duo and Alice take charge of the conversation.

Half way through the meal, my phone buzzes on the chair below my leg. To me, the vibration is extremely loud. I freeze, fork mid-air on the course to my mouth, as I glance around at the others. No one else seems to hear the buzz. _Phew_. I place my knife down and continue eating with only my fork, trying to not draw attention to myself, as I reach down for my phone. I have another message from Bella.

**Shit. Really? I don't envy you. How long are they at yours for? - B**

_The entire night I think :( Guess I'll be stuck riding with them to school tomorrow. - E_

**Aw, poor you. When I get my licence I'll come pick you up ;) - B**

_Only if you pass ;P - E_

**Oh I will. I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm ready to ditch my damn bicycle. - B **

_I'll take that damn bicycle over riding with these three any day. - E_

**Wow. It must be bad. I remember you complaining about riding my bike after only one try on it. - B**

Before I can reply, she sends another text through.

**'So uncomfortable' - B **

And another.

**'Should be illegal' - B**

Several similar messages come through, and I soon realise that she's quoting my complaints after riding her bike to school the morning after Rosalie's party and our unintentional meet up at the playground. It was _r__eally _uncomfortable, though. She continues to send them through.

**'Never again' - B**

**'Devil seat on wheels' - B**

Did I really say that one? I don't remember calling it that. I think she's starting to make these up.

**'Bruised my ass for a century' - B**

_Y_ep._ She's definitely making these up!_ I laugh out loud at that one, completely forgetting who is in my company. The others around the table have gone silent, and are staring at me.

* * *

**A/N: Haha! I've loved every minute of writing the development of their friendship. Tell me what you think of it!**

**Uh-oh. That ending! :O What do you think will happen?**

**As always, thanks for reading and I'll see you guys next time (WEDNESDAY!) :)**


	20. Chapter 20:'We're rich, not royalty' (E)

**A/N: Enjoy :)**

**(Please read the bottom AN!)**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

I'll take that damn bicycle over riding with these three any day. - E

**_Wow. It must be bad. I remember you complaining about riding my bike after only one try on it. - B_**

_Before I can reply, she sends another text through. _

_'**So uncomfortable' - B **_

_And another._

**_'Should be illegal' - B_**

_Several similar messages come through, and I soon realise that she's quoting my complaints after riding her bike to school the morning after Rosalie's party and our unintentional meet up at the playground. It was _really_ uncomfortable, though. She continues to send them through. _

**_'Never again'. - B_**

**_'Devil seat on wheels' - B_**

_Did I really say that one? I don't remember calling it that. I think she's starting to make these up._

_'**Bruised my ass for a century' - B **_

Yep. She's definitely making these up! _I laugh out loud at that one, completely forgetting who is in my company. The others around the table have gone silent, and are staring at me._

Chapter Twenty: 'We're rich, not royalty!' (Edward POV)

_Monday 15 May 2017_

My parents both look disapprovingly at me, while Alice looks pissed off and the devil-duo are confused.

"Edward, are you messaging at the table?" my mom asks. I shake my head slowly, unconvincingly. Alice snatches my phone from my hand below the table, holding it out for my mom. I glare at Alice as my mom takes it from her and checks the screen. Luckily I locked it as soon as I realised what I'd done. She can't see anything, as long as Bella doesn't send another message.

My mom glances at me with suspicion as she slowly places my phone on top of the table beside her glass of wine. I sigh and go back to my dinner, taking small bites as the conversation picks up around me once more. My eyes repeatedly drift to my phone, willing the screen not to light up with a new message.

Alice, Lauren and Jessica finish first. They ask to be excused and are granted their request, hasty to get up and leave. So hasty, that they all leave their dirty plates on the table. I wait for my parents to call Alice back into the room, to demand that she clear away her dirty dishes, but they don't. I know if it was me, they wouldn't have let me leave my chair, let alone the room, without ordering me to clean it up.

As soon as the girls are out of the room, my parents go silent, both staring at me as they take small bites of their dinner. It makes me feel uncomfortable. They continue like this until we've all finished our plates of food.

My dad leans back comfortably in his chair, sipping at his water, his eyes never leaving me. My mom stays silent, glancing between us both.

"So, Edward, how has your day been?" he asks after a while.

I nod silently for a few beats, before speaking up. "Good... Yours?" I ask, feigning curiosity when really all I want to do is escape to my room as soon as possible.

"Mine was going okay, until I came home and found out a certain piece of information," he says.

"Oh, really?" I ask innocently, picking up my glass and taking a nervous gulp of water as I look away from him.

"Yes. Really. Wouldn't you like to know what that piece of information is?" he asks me. I use this as my way out, though I'm not hopeful it'll work.

"No, I'm good. May I be excused?" I ask quickly, already lifting myself from the chair.

"No, you may not! I would like you to stay seated and listen to what I have to say!" my father says, his voice rising until he's almost shouting. He sits forward in his seat, as does my mother. I, however, shrink further into my chair, wanting to disappear from the room.

"Your mother, with the help of your sister and _her_ friends, have brought to my attention that you have befriended a _Miss Swan._ Is that right?" he asks, though he knows full well what the answer is.

"Yes. That is correct," I answer robotically. He hums, stroking a single finger down one of his sideburns as his face turns pensive.

"And, please tell me, what do her parents do? How do they earn their money?" he asks. My mother raises an eyebrow at me questioningly.

"Well, her father was a policeman before he... um, before he passed," I say, clearing my throat as I say the words. "And I don't know what her mother does," I admit quietly.

My father looks genuinely surprised as I admit to not knowing, but my mom just looks suspicious still. "You have no clue whatsoever?" she asks, disbelief coating her words.

"No," I say as I shake my head. "I've never asked her. Why? Is there a problem?" I ask, acting unknowing of their rules. _They must know!_ Whatever it is mustn't live up to my parents standards, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation to begin with.

My father takes a breath, readying himself to speak, but my mother beats him to it. "She works for me, Edward." Her tone is edging close to exasperated. I feel my eyebrows raise in actual surprise.

"Cool. What's wrong with that? That means she's a lawyer," I say happily, not expecting this turn of events. My dad, and especially my mom, can't complain about Bella because her mom has the same, or a similar, job to mine.

"No, Edward. She works _for _me. Not _with _me. She's a receptionist at my firm," my mom says slowly, letting the words sink in.

"Oh. Okay." I let the disappointment ween for a few seconds. "So, she's a receptionist. Big deal."

"Edward, do not speak to your mother like that!" my father demands, but other than that he stays uncharacteristically silent. I lower my eyes at my father's reprimand, mumbling out an apology. My mother sighs as she places her hand on my father's arm.

"Look, Edward. We only want what's best for you. We are only looking out for you. In our way of life, you have to choose who you socialise with wisely. Otherwise you'll get no respect."

"_Our way of life_? We're rich, not royalty!" I exclaim after a burst of laughter. I quickly lower my eyes again when my father looks at me disapprovingly, his face saying all the words for him: _watch-your-tone._

"Edward," my mother sighs, exhaustedly. Hopelessly. "You're still young. You're still learning. You need to listen to us. We know what's best for you."

_You don't even know me!_ I shout at her in my head, but I keep quiet on the outside, attempting to look like I'm listening.

"You're right, Mother," I say softly. She smiles while my dad looks surprised once more. "I _am_ still young, and I _am_ still learning. So let me make my own mistakes." Her smile falls and the surprise disappears from my father's face. _Did they seriously think they'd won me over so easily? _She seems to compose herself quickly.

"Well at least you agree with us on one thing," she sighs, though there's a hint of happiness in her eyes. I cock my head to the side, confused. "That this girl is a mistake."

My mouth drops open in shock. "A m-mistake?! Bella is not a mistake, she's my friend!" I almost shout, sitting up bolt right in my seat.

"Come now, Edward, be reasonable. That girl is a mistake. She won't be good for you in the long haul. It'll go one of two ways; you'll come to your senses and see she's not worth your time, or she'll realise she's not worthy of your friendship," my mom replies with a casual shrug.

My jaw tenses in anger. _How dare she!_ I hide my fisted hands under the table. "This is ridiculous! You're acting like I'm _dating_ Bella. Which I'm not. We're just friends," I protest angrily. I ignore my father's warning looks now, focusing solely on my mother.

"You're damn right. There is no way in hell I'd allow you to date that girl," my mother says, standing abruptly. _Woah. Calm and collected Esme Cullen never cusses_. I go silent, breathing heavily as her words repeat in my mind.

"_Allow_ me?" I ask quietly after some time, the words seeping out in a hiss of seething anger. "You wouldn't _allow_ me? Like I have no choice?"

She sits back down, gently placing her hands on the edge for the table to straighten out the creases in the table cloth she created when she stood. "Well..." she says and then stops to think. "Of course you'd have a _say._ But approval from us would be necessary."

And then she looks up at me with a smile. _Oh my God!_ Their control is worse than I thought. I sigh, letting my festering anger settle down a bit. I need to stay calm. There's no point in getting raged at the moment. "None of that matters right now, because Bella and I are just _friends._ That is all it is. But that won't be ending any time soon, I can assure you," I tell them both, my voice dangerously quiet. "May I be excused?"

My father nods silently just as my mother looks like she's about to protest. She snaps her gaze to him quickly. He doesn't glance her way as he watches me stand. As I leave the room and head to the kitchen, my plate and glass in hand, I wonder why my father was so silent during all of that.

I rinse my plate and put it with my empty glass in the dishwasher. I plan to use the stairs in the garage to get down to my room, but then I remember my mom still has my cell. I walk towards the dining room, but stop just before the doorway when I hear Bella's name mentioned.

"I was certain him befriending this Bella girl was an act of rebellion," my father says, his voice hushed but thoughtful.

"How so?" my mom replies, her voice sounding tired.

"Well, I was positive he knew the girl's mother worked for you. He knows that would have gotten under our skin, so I thought that was the reason. But he didn't know where she worked."

"Are you sure? I don't know when he's lying and when he's being truthful anymore. I don't believe he didn't know."

"Oh, I think it's true. He had no clue where she worked." They're both silent for a few seconds, and I'm just about to step into the room when my father speaks up again. "It's a shame the girl's father died. He sounded like a respectable man." His sigh is wistful.

_That means he doesn't think Bella's mother is respectable. No surprise there_.

"Yes. A police officer. Now _that_ would have been acceptable." My mother sounds a little choked up, and I roll my eyes at her through the wall.

"Don't worry, my love. I'm sure _Bella _is just a phase. Edward will get bored soon enough and ditch the girl. Then we can help him on the path to finding people like Alice has." I gape at him through the wall. _A phase? _Bella isn't a phase. She's a friend! And a good one at that!

I have to refrain from laughing at my mother's next words. "Those two up there seem lovely. Such good manners." My hand is over my mouth as I try and hold in my amusement. She obviously doesn't know them well yet. "That Jessica girl is a cute thing, isn't she? She'd make a wonderful daughter-in-law."

My world literally freezes. I'm in complete shock. No, no, no, no, NO! There is absolutely _NO _possibility I'll _ever _date Jessica, let alone _marry _her! _Ugh! _Just the thought of it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I can't believe my mom is even entertaining the idea of it. I can't believe she's thinking so far ahead! I'm not even sixteen yet, though I will be soon.

I don't give my father the chance to reply. I walk around the doorframe, quickly entering the room. They both startle as I enter. "Can I have my phone back, please?" I ask, holding my hand out.

My mom blinks several times at me, scowling as she picks up my phone and passes it to my father, who then holds it out to me. I grasp it and try to pull it away, but he tightens his hold, preventing me from leaving with it.

"Don't use this at the dinner table again. It's rude," he warns sternly. Only once I've nodded my understanding does he let go. I turn with every intention of leaving silently, but my mother can't help herself.

"Especially if you're texting _that girl._ I won't have it. Not at my dinner table."

I freeze a few steps from the door and turn slowly, a forced smile on my face. "Oh yes, I forgot to mention, I'll be tutoring Bella from now on which means she'll have to come here some days, just as I'll have to go to her house."

"You will do no such thing!" my mother protests loudly, standing abruptly from her chair once more. "I will not have _her_ in my house!"

"Fine. If that's the case, you are denying me the chance to get extra credit," I explain, crossing my arms over my chest. My mother is shaking where she stands, angry and speechless, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

My father stands slowly, the hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Well played, Edward," he says. _I'm not trying to win a game here. I just want your approval. _He stares at me thoughtfully for a moment. "You can tutor her here," he begins, but is interrupted by Mom's arguments. He places a hand on her shoulder, silencing her. "But you will remain downstairs when she is with you. I do not want to come home from work to be greeted with a mess in the places I can rest. You will also give me and your mother a heads up before you bring her by, preferably the day before?" He asks for approval from my mother, turning to her as he finishes his question. She nods solemnly. My father smiles and turns back to me. "Right. That's settled then. All of that understood?"

I nod firmly once, before turning and practically running for the stairs, bounding down them and to my room, where I close and lock my door.

I fall back onto my bed, holding my phone above my face as I check for any more messages from Bella. There are no more, and I feel guilty that I haven't answered to her previous ones. I decide to call her instead of texting back.

She answers after the fourth ring, but something's wrong, I can sense it. "Edward?" she answers the call in a whisper, panic touching the edges of her voice.

"Hey, Bella. Is everything okay?" I ask. There's only silence for a few seconds. I listen carefully when the sound of movement filters through the speaker. The _click_ of a door closing softly just about reaches my ears.

"Yes. I'm okay," she answers finally, her voice only a fraction louder.

"You sure?" I ask again, concerned.

"Yes, Edward," she answers with a sigh, obviously getting annoyed by my questions. I best stop.

"Okay. Is this a good time to call?" I ask.

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" she replies rather desperately. I'm taken aback a bit. I've never heard her this way before. She sounds on edge. She sounds a bit scared, if I'm being totally honest. All of a sudden, it's like she finds her composure. She sucks in an audible breath and breathes it out slowly, loudly, down the phone. "Sorry, Edward. I just, um, told my mom about the tutoring thing..." she trails off.

"What's happened? Does she not agree with it?"

"Um, you see, the thing is, um... she didn't know I needed a tutor," she tells me, stuttering her words.

"Oh," is all I have to say.

"Yeah, _Oh. _She didn't know I was struggling with math, and she... she's mad," she replies, her voice quietening to a whisper at the end.

"Damn. I'm sorry, Bella... is that a no then?" I ask, desperately trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"No," she answers, surprising me. "She agreed. She said if it'll help, I might as well. And when I told her it was Edward _Cullen_ willing to tutor me, she started to freak out."

I laugh once. "_Ha! _Is that because I'm her bosses son by any chance?"

"Actually, yes. How long have you known about that?" she asks me accusingly.

"I just found out tonight. I had no clue," I answer.

"Neither did I," Bella says thoughtfully. "Why did you stop texting back?"

"Oh, I laughed out loud at the _bruised my ass for a century_ one while I was sat at the dinner table with everyone."

"Oh shit. I am so sorry. I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble."

"Nah. It's fine. Don't worry about it. I only got my phone taken off of me and a stern talking to," I answer. Bella goes silent. I'm about to pick up the conversation again, maybe ask why she's suddenly gone quiet, but the muffled sound of someone else's voice comes through the speaker.

_"BELLA!"_ the voice bellows from somewhere in the background.

"Shit," Bella hisses out. "I, uh, I gotta go, Edward," she says in a rush.

"Okay-" She hangs up. "-Bye." I say into the lifeless phone, disheartened. I stare at it for a full minute, baffled by her abrupt ending of our phone call. Something was definitely wrong with her tonight.

I try not to let it bother me. It's seven-thirty p.m. and I have nothing I want to do. Bored, I decide to put some music on and look through my maths book to make a plan for Bella. The teacher we'll inform could possibly give me material to work with, but there's no hurt in being extra prepared.

After an hour, I have made a rough and suitable plan for Bella's tutoring. I have a good idea of what Bella struggles with, what her weaknesses and strengths are in the lesson. But I'll have the teacher check over it, just to be sure.

I go to lie on my bed now, once again bored. I use the remote to raise the TV from the foot of my bed. I flick through the channels, nothing catching my eye. I stop at a repeat episode of *Friends*, wanting a laugh. This one is from early on in the very first season, the one where Monica has to cook dinner for her parents. I laugh at the parts that are funny, but apart from that, the episode puts me in a rather somber mood.

The way Monica rushes round to please her parents, only for them to judge her still and blame her, it just reminds me of my relationship with my parents. It seems whatever I do, whether it's giving up a friendship like I did when I was little or giving up time to tutor someone, I can't do anything right. It's exhausting.

Sometimes I wish I had a parent like Bella's. Her mom doesn't seem to hassle her at all. She doesn't complain about her mom like I do about my parents and sister. The only thing she's ever said is that her mom is difficult. But how difficult can she really be?

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** A/N: Oh, Edward. You have _noooo _idea! None at all.**

** I forgot to mention this in last chapter's AN, but I don't know if the 'peer tutoring helps earn extra credit' thing is true. Here in England there is no such thing as earning credit, so I wouldn't know. But for the sake of my fictional story, let's pretend it's a fact and continue on. Sorry if it's not true and if that ruins this story for anyone.**

**Thanks for reading and please don't hesitate to leave a review! ****I'd love to know your thoughts.**

**I've been in a bit of writing slump for the past couple weeks. I've not written a lot and anything I _have _written, I've hated! Well, whilst editing this chapter just now, I got a sudden brain wave and know how to continue (don't worry, I'm a good six weeks ahead of schedule,** _**at least)**. _**So ****that's what I'm going to do right now!**

**I hope you all have ****a happy Halloween and I hope you've had a wonderful October! See you on Friday (in November)! Bye!**


	21. Chapter 21: 'sit back and observe' (E)

**A/N: Hi! So sorry this is a day late. I wasn't feeling too well yesterday and didn't manage to edit and upload this chapter! Anyway, here it is! Better late than never, isn't that what they say? I hope you enjoy!**

**Hello to my new story followers!**

**I hope you all had a wonderful Halloween! Can you believe it's already November, 'cause I can't!**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadows 

Chapter Twenty-one: 'sit back and observe' (Edward POV)

_Saturday 27 May 2017_

Today is the first day Bella is coming to my house. She's coming to study, for me to tutor her. I'm nervous, not because I'm doubting my tutoring abilities, but because it'll be her very first time here since the afternoon me and my family arrived, since she first and last encountered my parents. Both of them are home today; it's my dad's day off and Mom decided to work from home. I'm nervous because I have no idea how today will play out. There are so many things that could go wrong.

In the almost two weeks since Bella suggested the idea of tutoring, we've had a total of one actual tutor sessions... and that's all thanks to both of our parents, who are being awkward about the whole thing. You'd think _we _were the adults in all of this, seeing as _we're_ being more mature than they are.

Bella's mother has been reluctant to open her home to me. Apparently she doesn't want her boss's son to see her "messy" home - Bella seemed _extremely _pissed off when she relayed this information to me. And my parents... well... they've just been dragging their feet when it's come to agreeing to Bella coming over. In the number of times I've tried arranging it, there's always been some excuse. "_Not tonight, I'm working late"_, _"It's your sister's turn to have her friends over"_, "_Not today, Bev will be cleaning"_, _"No, Edward. Your room is a mess. It's not appropriate for company"_. It's been one excuse after another.

It was Memorial Day the Monday just gone - a day off of school. I thought that would be the perfect opportunity to have Bella come over for a few hours, but no. According to my parents, I couldn't have chosen a worse day for such an "_unimportant"_ event. They decided to throw a huge party for some people in town. _Some_. They thought it was the perfect opportunity to host their first official party here in Forks. They invited everyone 'important' from town. I had asked if I could invite my friend, Bella, just as my sister had all of her friends attending, but to no surprise my parents didn't allow it. I had to survive through mingling with the "upper-class" portion of the town's population, making small talk and realising quickly that they all have the same views and standards as my uptight and snobby family. It was like all the previous parties my parents had hosted back in Chicago: boring and definitely not my scene.

That was the last excuse they gave me. I made a point of not asking if Bella can come to our house all week, up until last night. Then all through dinner I whined and moaned, the way Alice does when she wants something but it's not going her way, until they probably felt like they _had _to say yes just to shut me up. I'm telling you, Alice is onto something with that nagging shit she does... though it can be _excruciatingly_ annoying when it's aimed at me. Most recently when she's been hounding me to sit with _'our'_, as she's taken to referring to them, friends during lunches, as well as pleading with me to hang out with them at Forks' Diner or somewhere in Port Angeles. If I didn't know the reason already, I'd be worrying as to why Alice is wanting me to spend time with her so badly recently. Most of the time she acts as if she can barely tolerate me. But, I do know the reason. It's all because of my friendship with Bella, and Alice's hatred of it and of _her._

Now that people know I'm friends with Bella, we've been spending more time together out in the open. Lunches are no longer spent hidden away in the library... well, not _every_ lunch. We still spend at least one lunch a week in the library, but mostly I'll sit with her at her table at the edge of the room, receiving horrid looks from _most_ of the students in the room. We've also met up outside of school... well, only _twice_ in the last almost two weeks.

Bella is very busy outside of school, something I hadn't realised until recently. She works every day after school and then claims she's too tired to meet up. I've tried arranging times for us to meet up, maybe at the Diner or just to go for a walk, but she's _always _too tired. I don't know... maybe she's embarrassed about an early curfew? I wouldn't mind if that were the case, but if it _is_ something as trivial as that, I don't understand why she'd keep it from me.

Last Saturday, for a couple of hours in the early afternoon, we met up at the playground we were at the night of Rosalie's birthday party. We mostly talked, sat on the bench by the gate, Bella munching her way through another one of those awful bags of Haribo sweets. We'd have preferred sitting atop the jungle gym, well _I would_ have at least, but some kids were playing.

On Sunday, Bella was called into work for the afternoon. I went to see her - _no_, I mean I went to get a new book - and we ended up doing some studying in the store room while the shop front wasn't busy. Angela, Bella's boss, didn't mind. She seemed all too eager to let Bella out of her work duties for a while. It's the only time we've been able to do any actual studying, the only time I've managed to tutor her, since we decided on it earlier that week. It wasn't the most ideal place to study, with the room being so small, but we made it work, using cardboard boxes as tables.

Now, today, we'll have the chance to study somewhere a bit more suitable. With proper chairs and tables and our actual textbooks, not some spontaneously sourced math equations off of the Internet on our phones.

Bella's teacher helped me draw up a plan for her. Well, I decided to go ahead and start one on my own, luckily knowing some of Bella's strengths and weaknesses from a time I watched her do some math homework in the library during lunch. She got a majority of the questions correct, though it wasn't too hard, and any that she got wrong were honestly stupid mistakes. The plan has been in place for over a week now, we just need the opportunities to actually use it and get some work done.

When ironing out all the minute details, we firstly approached her math teacher with the idea of me tutoring her. He was all for it; after all, she _really_ does need the help. He almost fell over his own feet as he rushed to the other side of the classroom where he had some worksheets he'd been preparing for an after school study group he runs. Later that day, I asked Bella why she doesn't go to that study group, but her answer was simply because she works after school everyday. Her teacher had tried, _and failed_, on countless occasions to get her to join. _No wonder he was so happy about this._

Next stop was _my _math teacher, who was also agreeable. He mentioned that it would be a great way for me to gain extra credit - which only happens if Bella's grade improves. _No pressure_.

I'm currently in the media room _trying_ to watch a movie. All I want is to take my mind off of all possible outcomes of this afternoon, but it's no use. My nerves are too strong, and my poor hair folecules are taking the brunt of my anxiety.

I hear a loud huff come from behind me, but I don't bother turning toward it's owner. It's Alice. I can tell by the tone of her sigh. She huffs again as she walks further into the room, dropping herself down onto the chocolate brown u-shaped sectional that's in the center of the room. It's a large piece of furniture, spanning almost the entire width of the room, while leaving enough space to comfortably get round it, and is situated in perfect viewing distance from the giant TV that's built into the wall. Ten large beige fluffy cushions decorated the couch, and several blankets are always left folded at the ends, ready for use. The TV is a _miniature_ movie theatre screen - though it's not really that miniature at all.

Just something else that makes me love this house even more than the one in Chicago; we didn't have a home cinema there. The walls, which are sound-proofed, are a chocolate brown with warm LED wall sconces spread out evenly along them. The carpet is a dark brown, too, adding to the boxed-in, but warm atmospheric feeling that the unison colour provides.

There's a snack bar by the wall that is in between both doors of the room, far behind the seating area. There's a black mini fridge filled to the brink with a variety of beverages, ranging from sodas to beers. Forming the main foundation of the snack bar, sitting above the mini fridge, is a polished black marble counter. A few large jars of sweets are neatly lined up in the center of the counter. A big popcorn machine stands beside the counter, too. There's a shelf above the counter, stacked with a selection of different sized popcorn boxes, and then a small cube-shaped cupboard on either side of the shelf; one filled with plastic bowls, and the other with glasses for the drinks. Underneath the counter, next to the mini fridge, is shelves lined with chocolate bars and bags of chips. It's perfect for a movie night.

This is the room Bella and I will use to take breaks from studying, and I hope many movies will be watched in here by the two of us on days she comes by to just hang out. And I plan for there to be _many_ days like that, because I do not want the only reason she visits to be because I'm her math tutor. I won't allow my parents to restrict my friendship with her. Not again.

I can't wait to show her this room. It's one of my favourites in the entire house, besides my bedroom and the great room down here, which is where the piano is. Actually, to put it in simpler terms, the whole lower floor of this house is the best part about it, in my opinion.

Alice huffs again, and I finally look at her. She has chosen the end of the U on the right, a choice that puts her as far as possible from my choice of seat in the very center of the sectional. She has a permanent scowl on her face and continously huffs. I lean forward to grab the tablet that controls everything in this room - lights, sound and visuals - to pause my movie. She glances at me. "Something wrong, Alice?" I ask with all the kindness I can find.

"No," she grumbles, looking down at her lap to stroke the throw blanket she's placed over her legs.

"Well, if there's nothing wrong, could you keep the sighing to a minimum? I'm trying to watch something here," I say, a lot less softer than when I spoke a moment ago, before I press play. She huffs again a few minutes later, louder than the ones before. I try and ignore her but she does it again, and again, and again until I've finally had enough.

I pause the movie angrily. "Seriously, Alice! Shut up!" I _very nearly _shout.

"You shut up! Why are you even watching this film? It's shit!" she retorts.

"It's not shit. It's good. You're just too simple minded to understand and enjoy it," I argue back.

"Whatever, Edward. I understand it perfectly fine, it's just shit and I can't enjoy it for that reason alone. Can we put something on that I want to watch?"

"What? No! We can't. I'm in the middle of watching '_Seven',_ you can wait," I tell her, eager to get back to watching the _amazing, _not _shit, _movie starring Morgan Freeman, Brad Pitt and Kevin Spacey.

"But I'm behind on the final season of '_The Vampire Diaries'_," she whines.

I stare at her blankly for several seconds. "Seriously? _That's_ what you want to turn this movie off for?" Alice nods silently in response. I roll my eyes. "Oh my God, Alice. How you can say _this_ is shit while admitting to enjoying that _crap_ is beyond me," I say with a chuckle.

"Shut up, Edward. It's a fantastic show, _you're just too simple minded to understand and enjoy it,_" she says, throwing my words back at me. I laugh loudly, my head thrown back.

"Alice, come on... you only watch it 'cause of those guys. What are they called? The Saltimore brothers?"

"It's _Salvatore_, and that's not the _only _reason. But even if it was, so what?" she replies angrily, crossing her arms. I chuckle, shaking my head as I turn back to the screen and press play.

"There's only a few episodes for me to catch up on before I've finished the whole series," she says after only five seconds. I groan in despair, hanging my head back with my eyes closed after I pause the film _again_!

"Cool," I reply after counting to ten to reign in my anger. "Go elsewhere to watch them. I'm in here at the moment," I say. She growls as she stands, balls up the blanket and throws it onto the floor like a petulant child. She stomps to the door before turning to glare at me.

"This is totally unfair! You get everything you want, but when _I_ want something, I'm not allowed it. You have your _friend_ coming here soon, Edward. Isn't that enough? You know Jasper won't come here to see me today because _she_ will be here? I think the fact your _friend _is stopping my boyfriend from coming to see me should mean that I get to watch what I want, don't you? You can't have everything you want, Edward! The world doesn't revolve around you!" As her speech continued, she became more and more angry, and screamed the last sentence at me from across the room.

I sit and wait patiently for her to finish her rant, and then in a calm and quiet manner, I reply, "Firstly, I don't see how it's fair for you to say I get everything I want, Alice. I think you need to sit back and observe how some, no, _most _days play out in this house. I very rarely get what I want. And secondly, it's not my fault your _boyfriend _dislikes Bella so much that he won't come here when she's here. It's pretty childish if you ask me. I mean, how old is the guy? Five?" Before she can interrupt, and I know she wants to do so oh-so-terribly much, I hasten to continue. "And finally, I think I should point out that Jasper isn't actually your boyfriend, Alice. You've been on _one_ date with him. Has he made it official yet? Has he declared himself as yours to your group of _'friends'_?" I air quote around the word, smirking at the tightening of her mouth. "You must not have been living in the same town as me these past few months, must not have attended the same school as me, because _I've _heard that he takes a different girl out _every weekend. _He probably won't come here because he's seeing someone else today, _not_ because someone he dislikes will be cramping his style."

I sit back, a satisfied smirk on my face as I watch Alice's face flare red and her hands close into fists at her sides. She breathes out between her teeth in anger, letting the moment of pause help her form a comeback, before speaking. "Whatever, Edward. You _do_ get anything you want, you're just too greedy to realise it. And Jasper isn't childish; how dare you! He's the Mayor's son. He is _never _childish. And for you information, he asked me out again this weekend." She gives me a smug smile, and lifts her chin proudly as she tells me this.

I chuckle at her. "Good for you, Alice. Can he come and pick you up now? Get you out of my hair?" I ask.

"You're so rude, Edward. _You're_ the childish one," she snaps.

"Back at ya, sis," I say ruefully. She makes a noise of anger in the back of her throat, kind of like a shriek and huff all rolled into one, as she crosses her arms over her chest in frustration. She turns on her heel and marches out of the room.

I chuckle humorlessly at her retreating form. She's always been difficult to handle, but she's never been this bad. It's as if Forks has had a negative affect on her, worsening her righteousness. She's not pissed off at the fact she can't have use of the TV, or with what I said about Jasper. She's mad at _me. _She's been mad at me since she found out about me tutoring Bella...

**_Friday 19 May 2017 - (8 days ago)_**

_I don't think anything could remove the smile from my face. Today has been magnificent, thanks to mine and Bella's teachers approving our tutoring plans. That's actually why I've arrived in the cafeteria later than usual this lunch time. I've stopped by at my sister's table for a few minutes, but I'll be heading back to the library with mine and Bella's food as soon as I'm done playing catch up with these guys._

_Even though I no longer spend much time with my _'friends' _that sit at the center cafeteria table, I still have to make an appearance, to keep my parents happy... or _happier _at least. It is literally for a few minutes every lunch. I come and sit with them to briefly chat before I head back to Bella._

_I was expecting more of a blowback after my declaration of friendship with Bella the day she was soaked to the bone by Rosalie's vicious acts, but it's been fairly calm. Both of the Hale siblings act distant toward me, though that seems to upset Alice more than it does me. But the others - Devils 1 and 2, _oops,_ I mean Lauren and Jessica, as well as Emmett and Tyler - all seem fine toward me. My sister, well, she tries to keep high spirited, but her worry about Rosalie and _especially_ Jasper's aversion to me clouds her attempted good moods more often than not._

_"Hi," I say cheerily as I sit down between Emmett and Jessica. Emmett replies with his own "hello", while the rest offer varied mumbles of their own greetings and a couple grunts of displeasure, which I ignore. My smile doesn't fall, even as Rosalie glares at me for a split second and Alice huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "How are you all?" I ask conversationally, not able to keep the grin from my face as I talk. I must _sound _happy, because Alice's next huff is louder than the last and Rosalie's scowl deepens._

_"We're fine," Rosalie answers for everyone. "What's made you so happy today?" she asks, reversing the attention to me. I shrug, my smile growing even further._

_"Just in a good mood, I guess," I say, grinning all the while. Her eyes narrow._

_"He _thinks_ the school will allow him to tutor his girlfriend so he can get extra credit," Alice speaks up, her words a hateful sneer._

_"One, she's not my girlfriend. And two, I don't just _think_ the school will let me. They already have," I reply, undeniable happiness filling my voice._

_"What?!" Alice exclaims loudly, her voice ringing through the room, drawing attention to us._

_"You're tutoring her? As in, you're spending time with her _outside _of school?" Lauren asks, her face crestfallen and tone disbelieving. I nod happily, not bothering to tell Devil 1 that I already do. It's none of her business._

_"But, _Dude,_" Tyler starts, "I asked if you'd tutor me when you first arrived and you said no."_

_My smile falls a bit. _Huh, it seems something _can _make it go away. _What Tyler says is true, and for a moment I feel guilty, but then I remember this is only happening because the people in my life can't accept who my friend is. What I said to Tyler all them weeks ago, about tutoring not really being my thing, is still true. But I don't mind doing this if it means I can see Bella in the comfort of my own home without, or at least with less of, the wearying lectures from my parents._

_"I'm sorry, Tyler," I say sincerely. "I guess the idea grew on me."_

_"Awesome! So could you tutor me, too?" he asks hopefully. I shake my head slowly._

_"No. Sorry. I don't have time to tutor more than Bella right now. Maybe next year?" I suggest, knowing full well he'll forget I ever offered to do it in a few months._

_"Cool," he answers, grinning._

_Alice is still glaring at me and Rosalie, Lauren and Jessica look displeased. Emmett looks bored and Tyler happy. Then there's Jasper. He's not even paying attention to the conversation, having lost himself in his usual appraisal of the room. How my sister thinks he likes her, when all he does is scour the room for girls to add to his never ending list of conquests, I'll never understand. The guy is a true player, which he does little to hide._

_"Why would they agree to this? Can't they see its a waste of time?" Alice stresses, talking directly to Rosalie, who shrugs non-comittally. I watch, amused as Alice visibly struggles to contain her sigh at Rosalie's indifference. Her desperate, pleading gaze turns on Jasper, who's sat opposite her. I turn my eyes to him, too, and watch as he sets the front legs of his chair onto the ground and leans forward, ready to listen to my sister. I guess he likes her to _some _degree. "Jaz?" she says quietly. "Is there anything you can do about this?" At that my gaze snaps back to Alice._

_"What? Alice, no, there is nothing he can do. What the hell do you mean?" Everyone at the table is staring at me now. Jasper's gaze is seething with anger, while Alice's eyes are full of unshed tears. _Seriously? She's almost crying?

_"Don't curse at me, Edward. You're the one that's making a mess of everything," she sobs, trying to contain her emotions as she stands suddenly and runs from the room, many eyes following her as she does. I look around the room, seeing people whisper and point._

_"See what you've done now, Cullen? You've upset your sister," Jasper says, shaking his head at me as he too rises from his chair. When _he_ is the one to follow Alice, the whispers turn to raised voices as a hum of shock and excitement sweeps across the room. Glares are aimed at me from everyone at this table, bar the guys - so basically just the girls._

_"Fuck this," I whisper under my breath, picking up my stuff as I exit the room, glad to have thought to get mine and Bella's lunch _before _I sat down to be greeted with that mess._

**_End of Flashback_**

Once the movie has finished, I offer a rather short olive branch to Alice by hollering up the stairs that the media room is free, before I go to my room to give it a quick tidy up. When I enter, however, I find Bev already in there straightening out my bed. "Bev, I'll do that," I insist, rushing forward. She stands up and turns to face me.

"No need. All done," she says distracted as she looks around my room. "Let me just grab the vacuum. This floor could do with a once over." I step in front of her before she can take a step toward my door.

"You don't have to, Bev. It looks fine. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were taking the day off to help Alan at the shop?"

"I was until I heard about this _friend _of yours is coming here today. I had to make sure this place was in the best possible condition. We want to impress her, don't we?" she asks with a tilt of her head and a raised brow, causing the tips of my ears to turn red with heat. I nod silently. "Well then, move out of my way so I can do my job."

I step aside wordlessly, my hand returning to my hair as I once again begin to think about Bella being here. Bev stops her walk toward my door when she spots my nervous habit. "_Aaaaw_," she coos, rushing back over to me. "Look at you, all nervous for her arrival. Come on, dear, tell me about her. Is she cute? Does she make you laugh? Have you kissed her yet?"

"Woah woah woah," I rush to stop my housekeeper slash former-nanny's word vomit. The heat spreads to my cheeks as I blush deeply. "We're not... we don't have _that_ kind of relationship, Bev! We... she's... we're _just _friends." Bev smiles at my struggle to articulate my friendship with Bella to her.

"Mm'kay," she hums, not sounding the least bit convinced. "Well, ignore the last question then," she says, urging me to answer the rest of her questions. I sigh, reaching up to run my hand through my hair but I halt my hand half way there and quickly drop it down to my side.

"She's not cute. That's not the right word for her. She's... _beautiful_. And yes, she does make me laugh. She can be so serious at times, but then she can also be very funny when she wants to be." I find myself smiling as I speak these words.

Bev's smile is triple the size of mine and there's a twinkle in her eyes that's only just appeared in the last few minutes. "That's good. Laughter is a vital ingredient to make a perfect, aaah, _friend-_ship."

I narrow my eyes at her. "_Bev_," I begin, a warning in my tone. She steps back, smirking as she holds up her hands.

"I'm saying nothing," she tells me, walking toward my door. "I'll be back in a moment," she calls over her shoulder as she leaves my room. I sigh, shaking my head as I drop to the yellow chair by my desk. I'm glad my parents didn't come down to see me during that conversation. They'd have fired Bev just for what she asked about kissing, for sure!

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts... did he handle the Alice situations well? What are your predictions on how Bella's visit will play out?**

**Next chapter will be Bella's return to the house, and her first time actually setting foot inside it! I was going to have that in this chapter but I decided against it in the end for 2 reasons. One, the chapter would have ended up being too long, and Two, I wanted to give you an insight into Edward's life _away _from Bella because I feel like there's been a lot of just those two in most recent chapters.**

**I'll be back on Monday! Have a lovely weekend and see you all next week!**


	22. Chapter 22: 'wow' (Edward POV)

**A/N: Hey! I was meant to upload this HOURS ago but I have been absolutely engrossed in a wonderful fic, called 'Where The Heart Is'. It was beautiful and incredible and just so much _more _than I was expecting. I loved it so much I read it in one day! Links are sketchy in fanfiction and never work but it shouldn't be hard to find! If you haven't read anything by BitterHarpy, then I really recommend that you do! You will _NOT_ regret it! I started with her WIP (and almost complete) story, 'The American Princess' (another amazing story) and I am hooked! I've made it my personal mission to read all her stories now! Don't worry, I'll still take time to write this! ;)**

**Just for clarification, I'm recommending 2 stories by the same author: _Where The Heart Is_ by BitterHarpy and _The American Princess_ by BitterHarpy**.

**Thank you for reviewing. Let's just get straight into this next chapter. We left off with Edward waiting for Bella to arrive... I hope you enjoy!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Twenty-two: 'wow!' (Edward POV)

_Saturday 27 May 2017_

"You guys really don't need to be here when she arrives," I try for the umpteenth time since the clock struck 1:30pm. My parents are stood off to the left of the door and I know Bev is pottering around close by. Alice sits on the stairs to the left of the foyer, sighing every few seconds.

My dad gives me a stern look, so I shut my mouth and go back to tugging at my helpless hair. My sister sighs again. "I know this girl hasn't had the best upbringing, she probably has no manners of any kind, but you'd think she'd have the decency to arrive on time," Alice complains. My mother obviously agrees with Alice, nodding and then looking at me like it's _my _fault Bella is late. _Only by four minutes._

"Alice, please don't talk like that. I know you're apprehensive about this girl being here, but we are civilised people. We won't be rude." Did the Princess Doting Carlisle Cullen _really_ just tell her off? I have to try _extremely_ hard to stop my mouth from dropping open. There's nothing I can do about the widening of my eyes however.

"But, Daddy-"

"No buts, Alice," he interrupts her whine with a stern look. And for once the famous Carlisle Cullen glare is aimed at his beloved she-can-do-no-wrong daughter. This time I do a poor job at containing my astonishment. Even my mother looks shocked... though her expression could be better described as appalled. "You may not like this girl, but you can't say what kind of upbringing she has had. You don't know her well enough. Your brother on the other hand," he trails off and once my shock at his chastising Alice dwindles a little, I realise that all three of them are looking at me like they're waiting for me to actually tell them about Bella's life.

"What? I don't know either," I say, a little flustered at being put on the spot.

"I thought she was your friend?" my mom asks, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.

"She is but she's also a very private person," I say defensively.

"Hmmm," is all my mother responds with.

Alice is mid sigh number 1001 of the day when there's a timid knock on the door. My heart does a little jump in my chest at the sound, and then tries to leap out all together when I see my father heading for the door. _No way!_ I speed walk past him, reaching for the handle before he can greet her with the same attitude he had all them weeks ago when we first arrived and scare her away.

"Hey," I reply much more calmer than I'm feeling as I pull the door wide open. Bella's eyes are wide as she takes in the foyer behind me.

"Hi," she breathes. I step back and she shakes her head as if to clear it, smiling up at me in thanks as she steps forward. "Sorry I'm a little late," she says, but she doesn't expand any further. Not that I mind. I don't need to hear the reason why. My parents on the other hand... "Oh," she squeaks, coming to a stop on her way into the house. Her mouse like squeak is accompanied by a soft gasp from my mother, and I know that at that exact moment, my mother gets a good look at Bella and recognises her from the day we arrived. It was a piece of information I'd purposefully kept quiet... a piece of information I'm surprised my sister didn't tell our parents the moment it was decided they'd be meeting Bella again at some point.

I close the door behind her and when I turn, anxious to see what caused Bella to make that noise, all I want to do is bury my face in my hands. She's been startled by the intimidating wall of my family. "H-hello," she says timidly. There's a tense silence for several seconds before my father steps forward, ever the charming face of the Cullen family.

"Welcome, Isabella. I'm Carlisle, Edward's father. This is my wife, Esme, and I believe you already know Alice."

Bella's frozen for several beats of a minute. Stood to the left of her, I can see the visible sign of her pulling up that wall she seems to have constructed around herself. It's been crumbling away the more time we spend together, but once in the presence of others, it gets put back up. I've seen it happen around her boss, too.

"Yes, I do," she nods, her voice a little stronger than before. "Hello again, Alice... Mr and Mrs Cullen, thank you for having me in your home. It's... it's beautiful," she says, almost breathing the last word, awe filling her voice.

"Of course it is," my mother replies insolently. My mouth gapes slightly at the rudeness of my usually well-poised mother. The tensing of my father's jaw is his only reaction to his wife's rudeness. There's an elonged, awkward silence that's broken only when Bev enters the foyer, attempting to appear casual, but I know her better than that. She's saving us all from ourselves.

"And this is our housekeeper, Beverly Howard," my father, who sounds as relieved for the break in silence as I am, says when she enters from the direction of the kitchen. Bev is all smiles as she comes toward Bella, who's expression is less relaxed. She sticks out her hand to Bev before the older woman can get close enough for a hug. It didn't escape my notice how neither of my parents offered Bella even a handshake when she arrived. I catch Bev's falter at Bella's formal action, but she takes it all in stride and shakes her hand firmly.

"It's lovely to meet you," Bella says to Bev with a tight smile, and then looks behind Bev and says, "it's lovely you meet you _all._" I can sense another awkward silence coming, but Bev isn't about to let that happen anytime soon.

"It's wonderful to meet one of Edward's friends! I've heard so much about you." Bella and I blush at the same time, though my slight embarrassment quickly turns to nerves when I spot the way my parents glance at each other upon hearing Bev's words.

"Well, I'm sure you're all busy, so we'll get to studying," I say, not bothering to wait for a response from my family as I grab Bella's hand and pull her in the direction of the stairs. The quicker we can leave this room and the stuffiness of it, the better.

"Edward." I halt at the top of the stairs and turn when I hear my mother call my name. Everyone's eyes are trained on mine and Bella's clasped hands. Even Bella's focus is drawn to them. I consider letting go of her hand for a split second, but quickly decide against it. I don't know why, but her hand fits mine comfortably, and I don't know how to feel about that. All I _do _know is that I don't want to let go right now.

My attention is given to my mother, who is noticeably pale all of a sudden. She blinks several times before her eyes meet mine. "Maybe you'd like to give Isabella a tour before you begin tutoring?" Her suggestion comes as a surprise to me, and the other members of our family who turn to look at her. All she offers is a tight lipped smile.

"I'll come with you!" Bev quickly includes herself.

After that declaration, there seems to be a mutual agreement as stilted smiles are offered. Well, only by my father. Mother and Alice turn and leave without any attempt of a smile at all. The others hastily disperse, leaving me, Bella and Bev stood by the stairs. I instantly feel relief flood me, at ease now that the initial greetings have passed.

"Okay then. Shall we?" Bev takes the lead as we guide an amazed Bella around our large home.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"Your house is... _wow!_"

I chuckle as I walk to my wardrobe to hang Bella's coat on the hook inside. That's all she can say. She's repeated the same statement four times now.

"It is pretty great," I say, heading back into my room. I sit down at my desk and face Bella, who's demurely perched on the edge of my bed.

"Great? That's the _definition_ of an understatement, Edward. Your house is... _wow!_"

"Okay, you can stop saying that now, Bella," I say, chuckling nervously. Her astonishment is starting to make me feel a little uncomfortable. Mainly because I know how she views this house. It's so different from hers; I don't want her to view me in a different way because of the house I live in.

She giggles, covering her face with her hands. "Sorry. I keep saying that, don't I?" She peeps between her fingers to watch me nod, an _almost _natural grin on my face. "When can we go see the rest of this floor?" she asks, excitement colouring her tone. This is the most animated I have seen her... _ever. _Her brown doe eyes are _sparkling_ this afternoon. It really is a wonderful sight. And a wonderful feeling, to know that I will only add to that when I take her to see the rest of the lower level. I stopped Bev from leading us through to the great room and media room down here, because I want to show Bella those rooms a little later on. I cannot wait to see her reaction to the grand piano that sits in the aclove of the great room.

"Once we've got some studying done, because knowing you, you won't want to leave those rooms for a while after," I reply with a chuckle.

She nods, reaching down for her bag that she placed by her feet before she sat down. I turn away from her as she does this, facing my desk. My back is to her for no more than three seconds before I'm swiveling in my seat at the sound of her sharp intake of breath. A _pained _sharp intake of breath.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned. She has her eyes closed and her expression is pinched with pain.

"Nothing. I... I just slept funny last night. My ribs are a little tender, that's all."

I mustn't look very convinced because when she looks up at me, she tries to offer me a smile. "Seriously, Edward. I'm fine. The sooner we get started with _maths_," she says the word with much abhorrence, causing me to smirk, "the sooner you can show me those rooms you so adamantly want to hide from me."

"Okay," I say, chuckling as I turn back to my desk. "How long have we got today? Can you stay for dinner?" I ask, keeping my back to her. My stomach is in knots as I await her answer. When she doesn't reply, I turn back to face her.

"I can't stay for dinner," she says, sounding as disappointed as I feel, "but I can stay till... five p.m.?" she suggests, to which I nod, glancing at my alarm clock. We have a few hours. I mentally decide that we'll study until four, leaving us an hour to relax and just hang out.

There's a knock at my door which draws both of our attention. I get up to open it, revealing Bev stood holding a tray filled with two bottles of water, two empty glasses and some snacks. "What's all this, Bev?" I ask, not expecting it.

She walks past me, stopping beside my desk as she tries balancing the tray with one hand so she can make some room on the surface for it. Before I can utter an offer to help, Bella is stood, moving things aside. Wordlessly, she takes the tray from Bev and places it down. "Oh, thank you, sweet," Bev says, a little taken aback by Bella's help.

I may offer to help Bev whenever I see her doing something in my room, but she always refuses, wanting to do it herself. I know no one else in my family offers to help, and they definitely don't just take it upon themselves to help our housekeeper without asking, like Bella has just done. Bev is staring at Bella fondly. "Such a lovely girl," she praises quietly, causing Bella to blush and glance at me nervously. I smile reassuringly at her.

"I just wanted to bring you kids some snacks and drinks before I leave. You need to keep your energy up with all the studying you'll be doing," she says. Bella frowns.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, sweet. I've got to get back to my husband. I was meant to be helping him at his new florist today."

"Your Alan's wife?" At Bella's question, both mine and Bev's faces register surprise.

"Why, yes I am. How do you know my Al?"

Bella blushes again, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I go to the florist sometimes. I like... plants. It was such a shame when the old place closed down a few years ago. When I saw it reopened last week I popped in and got talking with the new owner. I didn't know you were the famous _Lee. _Alan spoke about you every other sentence."

Now it's Bev's turn to blush. "Yes, that's me..." She seems to think for a moment. "Your full name is Isabella, right?" At Bella's nod, Bev smiles. "That must mean your Iz?"

Bella nods, smiling. "Yes. As soon as I told him my name, he gave me a nickname," she replies. I silently stand by and observe their conversation. Bella visibly relaxes, smiling naturally. There are none of her nervous habits on show as she talks with Bev; she doesn't screw her hands up in the hem of her top; she doesn't bite her lip or chew her thumb nail in that way she does when she's anxious. For some bizarre reason, I feel a sense of pride.

"Oh yes, that's my husband. He gives anyone he meets that he likes a nickname. Edward here is Teddy, and Alice is Licorice," Bev tells her, leaning close and whispering, "though she never liked that much." Bella's laughter is light, and natural. I smile at them both.

Soon Bev has to leave, unfortunately. I know Bella feels the same. She sighs once Bev is gone.

"Well, we better begin or I'll never pass math," she says before sighing once more.

We settle down comfortably and begin the work I've got out for today. We start off sat beside each other, me on the desk chair and Bella in the chair that sits close to my desk, which we are both leaning on. About an hour and a half into our work, we migrate to the bed, for more room. Bella is led on her left side, across the foot of my bed, a cushion resting underneath her ribcage for comfort. She's facing the head of the bed, which is where I'm sat, leant up against the headboard. There are textbooks and sheets of paper, pencils, rulers and highlighters spread out across the bed between us.

"Wait, what? So, the tiny two-"

"Squared," I interrupt, providing her with the correct terminology. She rolls her eyes.

"Yes, _squared_... so when that's next to a bracket it really means to multiply the bracket by itself?"

I nod. Her nose scrunches up. "But why can't they just write it out with both brackets?"

"Because that's not the neatest form."

"Yeah, but it's the _easiest _form to understand. Why make it more confusing just so it can look _neat_?"

I purse my lips, unsure of what to say. She stares at my face for several seconds before she groans and hangs her head, frustrated. We've been going over this for the last fifteen minutes. "This quadratic equation stuff is a mind boggle." I chuckle, but try to hide my amusement behind my hand when she opens one eye to glare at me.

"You'll get it eventually, Bella. Soon you'll find it to be as easy as two plus two." Both her eyes open this time so she can glare at me fully.

"Yes. Maybe for you, Mr Einstein."

"Actually, I think you'll find Albert Einstein was a physicist more than he was a mathematician," I correct her with a smirk.

Something narrowly misses my face as she throws it at me. "Smart ass," she mutters, though I can hear the hint of amusement in her voice. The pull at the corner of her mouth doesn't go unnoticed by me either.

"Did you just throw a _protractor_ at me?" I ask, shocked when I look down at the pillow beside me and see it laying there. The smile she was trying so hard to mask breaks through and soon we both burst into laughter. I fall to my side, struggling to catch a breath inbetween my guffaws.

That's how my mother finds us when she walks into my room, sans knock, as usual.

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**A/N: Uh-oh. Hateful, snarky Mrs. C caught them laughing. Wonder how she'll react?**

**So what do you think of the official first meeting between the Cullens and Bella? Let me know in a review! See you all on Wednesday!**


	23. Chapter 23: 'I became that girl' (EPOV)

**A/N: This is one of my shortest chapters so far, I think! Enjoy!**

**_Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!_**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_"You'll get it eventually, Bella. Soon you'll find it to be as easy as two plus two." Both her eyes open this time so she can glare at me fully._

_"Yes. Maybe for you, Mr Einstein."_

_"Actually, I think you'll find Albert Einstein was a physicist more than he was a mathematician," I correct her with a smirk._

_Something narrowly misses my face as she throws it at me. "Smart ass," she mutters, though I can hear the hint of amusement in her voice. The pull at the corner of her mouth doesn't go unnoticed by me either._

_"Did you just throw a _protractor _at me?" I ask, shocked when I look down at the pillow beside me and see it led there. The smile she was trying so hard to mask breaks through and soon we both burst into laughter. I fall to my side, struggling to catch a breath inbetween my guffaws._

_That's how my mother finds us when she walks into my room, sans knock, as usual._

Chapter Twenty-three: 'I became _that_ girl' (Edward POV)

_Saturday 27 May 2017_

My mother's smile is tight, the creases at the corners of her eyes showing her contempt. We both sober up quickly upon seeing her. "I thought you two were meant to be studying, not having fun," she says, a pleasant smile fixed on her face. Even when my mother would rather not, she is well-practised in keeping up a civil facade. Having said that however, her words, which I know are intended to be lighthearted, come out sounding tense and forced.

Bella grimaces as she pushes herself into a sitting position, and I'm not sure if it's because of her achy ribs or my mother's obvious dislike of her presence in our home. Her gaze drops to the bedspread.

"What can we do you for, Mom?" I ask, trying to steer her calculating stare away from my uncomfortable friend.

"Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd come and see what all the noise was about." Noise? There's no way she heard us laughing from all the way upstairs, unless...

"Have you been down here long?" I ask, already knowing what the answer will be.

"Yes, well, Alice and I are watching a movie in the media room," she replies.

"Cool. What movie?" I query. Her eyes widen. I know she's lying; I'm simply testing her. There is no way, even though the media room is on the same floor as my bedroom, that she heard our laughter. The speakers in that room are movie theater quality, my room is the farthest one from the media room... _and _the media room is _sound-proofed_. She must have been eavesdropping on us, and knowing my mother, she's been doing so for a while.

"Um, we're watching '_The Notebook'_!" she rushes to say, obviously thinking on the spot. Bella's head shoots up, drawing my mother's attention back to her. Mom raises an eyebrow, and Bella blushes, her gaze flitting between my mother and me.

"I-I love that movie," she says as way of an explanation for her reaction, before she drops her gaze back to the bedspread. My mother's responding smile is once again tight.

"It is a good one," she replies after an awkward silence. "Well, I'll leave you guys to it," she says, not waiting for any kind of response before she turns on her heel and marches out of my room. I do nothing to hold back my sigh once she's out of my room; she left my door open.

While Bella stays focused on the quilts beside her knee, I get off the bed and walk to my door, shutting it gently. I turn back to Bella and lean against the door, arms crossed over my chest. I wait and wait for Bella to take initiative, to meet my anxious gaze. After several tense minutes, she finally raises her head and glances my way.

She offers me a small smile. "I don't think your mother likes me very much," is all she says. I scoff. Both of us know that's an understatement. When I see Bella drop her head once more, I sigh and push away from the door, walking toward her. I turn my desk chair and take a seat, facing her. I wait for her to raise her gaze to mine again, but when it doesn't seem likely that she'll do so anytime soon, I reach out and place my hand on her bent knee. _That _gets her to lift her head.

Her wide brown eyes meet mine and I have to try with all my might to hold back my gasp. Her eyes are the most vulnerable I have ever seen them. The mask she has in place around others has completely disappeared in this moment, the most I have ever seen it.

"It's not your fault, you know? My mother... she... I mean, we, well not _me_, but my _family_ have certain beliefs. They are... _struggling _to come to terms with the idea of me being friends with you." Bella's lips purse as if she is going to say something, but I don't allow her to. My rambling continues, even when my brain is telling me to shut the hell up! "You know... because of social status and all that crap. To them, how much money someone has and how they _earn_ that money is _very_ important. It's completely ridiculous, I know, but it's just the way they are. My mother is the worst of them all. Her beliefs have been ingrained into her from a young age, whereas my dad actually came from a family like yours... _aah_, I mean, his was middle-class. He built up all he has _now_ on his own. It wasn't something he was born into. But after so many years with my mother and spending time with _her_ parents, my grandparents, he's gotten ridiculous with all the _expectations_ and beliefs, too." I take a much needed breath. I can feel my cheeks heating with my embarrassment; _where was I going with all this again?_ "What I'm trying to say, is that you shouldn't take my families attitude towards you personally."

Bella arches a brow. "Can I talk now?" she asks. I nod and my blush deepens, both because I just made a complete ass of myself, and because Bella slips her hand over mine when I nod. I hadn't realised I still had mine wrapped around her knee. "I understand. Believe me, I understand," she mumbles the last words, her voice trailing off as she looks down at her hand on top of mine. She seems to disappear into her own thoughts for the next few moments. She picks up her hand from mine, only to begin tracing the back of my hand. I don't remove my gaze from her face as I watch her while she thinks. Her index finger brushes up and down each of my fingers, connecting the knuckles like a dot-to-dot. Eventually, Bella inhales and exhales deeply. When she raises her eyes, I easily notice the resolute look she has in them.

"I don't know if Rosalie or any of the others told you, but I used to be their _friend_. In hindsight, it was a bad judgement call from me." She pauses when I chuckle, sending me a questioning look. I don't offer an explanation, which is that I find it funny how Rosalie said the exact same thing about Bella when she brought this up. Though she still looks curious, she continues. "My father," she says before her sentence is interrupted by a need to gulp. Her eyes drop to my hand.

"He was a decorated officer of Forks' Police force," she tries again, speaking down to my hand instead of at _me_. "Back then it was, how do I put this... a social _boost _to be seen with me. Even at eight, nine, _ten_ years old, the people of this town were so hooked on, as you called it, social status. It was important to the kids as well as the adults, even to _Rosalie_, the _Mayor's daughter_. When I was Officer Charlie Swan's daughter, I was someone people wanted to hang out with, to talk to and be friends with. I had, what I had considered at the time, the bestest friends in the whole world. They loved being me with, and I'll admit, I loved being someone that everyone in school _wanted _to be with. It was egotistical, I see that now. None of them were ever really my friend because they liked _me, _it was all because of who my father was. Then he died, and the _need_ to be around me that everyone had, it just vanished. It vanished along with my title of 'Officer Charlie Swan's daughter'."

"You're still his daughter, Bella," I say softly. I didn't want to interrupt her during what was very clearly a difficult story to tell, but I felt like I had to when she plaintively whispered that last sentence. Her eyes raise to meet mine. My chest physically aches at the sight of tears in her eyes. She stares at me for several seconds before she shakes her head and drops it once more.

"My attitude towards... _everything_, my whole persona... i-it changed when he passed away. _He _was my best friend. Not Rosalie or Lauren or Jessica. My _dad _was. Once he was gone, I'll hold my hands up and say it, I became this melancholy, depressed shell of myself. I stopped smiling as much, stopped talking so openly. I started _dressing _to match my mood and I had this sudden desire to be left alone _all the time. _The slightest thing would send me into fits of rage, something I'd never had trouble with before. I _changed_. That was most likely a catalyst for the way my so called _friends _began to treat me. It wasn't long after his funeral that I became the girl everyone avoided. The one that you should stay away from. The one that, if you are seen just _talking_ to her, you're whole mental state is put into question. The one that people target to make themselves feel better. I became _that _girl."

Bella sighs before she raises her head. Without thinking, I reach up with the hand she hasn't been using as a focal point throughout her whole speech to wipe away the tear that falls. I can't imagine how hard it must have been to say all that. Even _my_ eyes are moist. From the few weeks that I've known Bella, I can confidently guess that that was the first time she has said all of that out loud. Another tear rolls down her cheek, and I don't have to think twice before I pull on her hands, drawing her closer to me for a hug. She obviously needs the comfort, because in a very brazen and un-Bella-like move, she gets off the bed and climbs onto my lap, curling her body into the smallest ball physically possible. I freeze for only a second, my arms hovering mid-air before I wrap them around Bella, hugging her to me.

That's how we sit for the next while, our tutoring session forgotten for now. If my mother walked in now and saw us in this position, she'd shit a brick.

After a while, I don't know how long exactly, Bella raises her head. She stares at me, her eyes flickering between each of mine, before a rueful smile slowly creeps onto her face. "Maybe we should study someplace else from now on."

I chuckle, looking around my room. "Yeah, it's probably for the best that we don't spend _all_ of our tutoring sessions here. At least when my parents are home." She joins my chuckles with her own light laughter. "Perhaps we could try your place next time," I suggest thoughtfully. Bella's laughter ceases a little _too _suddenly. She starts to pull away, and though I really don't want to, I drop my arms from around her. She gets off my lap and lays back down on her side across the foot of my bed.

"We'll see," is all she says, before demanding we return to the work we're _supposed _to be doing.

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**A/N: A heart-to-heart between these two was needed, I think. What do you think? Let me know!**

**Se****e you Friday! :)**


	24. Chapter 24: 'What are they planning'(B)

**A/N: Hey! So I'm finally, _officially_ out of my writing slump. When it is time to post that specific chapter I was stuck on, I'll let you know which one.**

**Anyway, back to Bella's pov now. I was worried some of you may have thought the past couple chapters didn't have enough drama, but seeing as there haven't been any comments on it, I'll take the silence as good news. Edward's first time at Bella's will be much more... eventful. That's all I'm going to say about that.**

**See you at the bottom!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Twenty-four: 'What are they planning?' (Bella POV)

_Friday 2 June 2017_

It's been six days since I went _into _Edward's house for the first time. Six days since I met Edward's parents for the first time, excluding the disaster of the day the Cullens arrived in town.

It has been exactly six days since I revealed some _r__eally_ personal stuff to Edward. Stuff that I've never talked about. Stuff that I hadn't _planned_ on talking about to _anyone._

I went through _many _emotions last Saturday. From nervous, to excited. Amazed to bored. Embarrassed to upset and vulnerable. I think I experienced most, if not _all_, emotions physically possible for a human being to experience. It was one hell of a roller coaster ride.

I can't put into words how incredible it was to see that house again. After so long of being denied going to the one place that makes me feel at peace, having a _taste _of it was indescribable. Sure, it wasn't my meadow, but it was still great to be so _close _to it. And to finally be able to see _inside_ the house after all these years was... wow!

That's all I could actually say to Edward once I'd been given a tour. My brain was mush, still-shots of all I'd just seen were shuffling in my mind, ceasing any intellectual thoughts I had. The best part was _definitely_ the rooms Edward had delayed me from seeing until after he'd tutored me for a few hours. After our heart-to-heart following his mother's unexpected visit, the fact that there was still _more _of the house to see had completely slipped my mind. So, when Edward announced we had done enough work for that day and it was time to see what he'd been hiding, my excitement from earlier returned in tenfold.

Down the hall, past the spare bedroom that's beside Edward's and past the staircase, was the great room. This room _deserved_ it's name. It's indeed a _'__great'_ room. It's massive, with a bar on the left as you enter from the hall that holds Edward's room, and on the right is the main area of the room. There are large sofas situated in front of a glorious fireplace, and in the hexagonal aclove in the center of the rear wall is a _grand piano._

It's _Edward's _grand piano, as he told me, seeing as he's "the only one that actually plays it anymore". I was shocked into silence as soon as I layed eyes on it. I was glad Edward had made me wait because, intentionally or not, the late afternoon sun shone through the aclove windows at the perfect angle so that it lit up the instrument, dazzling me all the more. I remember wandering over to it in a daze. My trembling hands hovered over the lid that hid the ivory and ebony keys from view, too afraid to touch it. I simply stared in never-ending silence as Edward, who was wearing a smirk, gracefully sat down on the bench, lifted up the lid and began to skillfully play a quick random melody. He went on to play a classical piece I recognised but couldn't name, all while I stood by and watched in amazement.

My state of silent shock was broken finally, but it was only once Edward began playing the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme tune, a song he didn't even recognise when I'd played it at school weeks ago. He played it flawlessly, I realised through my laughter. I was laughing so hard that I doubled over, losing my balance, therefore having to steady myself by placing my hand on the piano. That instantly sobered me up, but Edward didn't seem to mind me touching it, so then and only then did I dare to sit down beside him on the piano bench. I applauded his performance once he finished playing the theme tune. He convinced me to play it with him, so I did, harmonising with him at a different key. After that, with a wink, he declared that he'd been practising that song just for me, _like that wasn't so clearly obvious already._

We played around on the piano for a bit. Carlisle, Edward's father, came down to the lower floor for ten minutes during this time. He claimed to be curious when he heard the dual playing from upstairs. Surprisingly, especially so after witnessing his wife's obvious respite to my being there, he said all of this with genuine curiosity. Adding to my surprise, I found that his presence in the room for the short ten minutes he spent sat on the sofa, watching us while we played, didn't bring an uncomfortable tension to the room as his wife's did when she entered Edward's bedroom an hour or so prior.

Not too long after Carlisle's departure from the room, Edward left for a few seconds, returning with a heap of paper. He dumped them all down on top of the piano and began sifting through them, searching for something. I'd sat on the bench, idly playing with the keys as I watched him. When he sat back down beside me, placing the sheet against the stand, and I saw it was a scruffy sequence of chords and notes, I was shocked. He'd drawn his own staves onto plain paper and written his own piano pieces. I was elated - it's something else we share in common: writing songs. He started playing his own composition, and I was astounded. It was up to professional standard. No joke. I dragged the other sheets of loose paper toward me and while I listened to him play, I had a look through them. Some were completed, a few even had names, but most of the pieces of paper were just a collection of random, unfinished chord sequences. No matter the stage they were at, all of them were good, all had potential.

I felt gratitude to Edward in that moment, that he'd want to share something so personal with me. It made me feel guilty for not showing him my journal, but for some reason, something was holding me back. For some reason, in that moment, I didn't want him to know that I write songs, too... _in a much more organised fashion._

It wasn't too long after that that Edward declared there was _more _he wanted me to see.

I was reluctant to leave the piano - Edward had to physically lift me from the bench - but once we entered the neighbouring room, all sadness of leaving the beautiful instrument vanished. The media room he lead me to was almost as spectacular as the piano. Almost. I knew that, despite what we'd discussed in his bedroom after his mom came and spoiled our fun, there would be many return visits back to this house for me, and they wouldn't all be for Edward to tutor me. Unfortunately we didn't have enough time to watch anything on the mega-size screen, with me having a strict curfew and all, but I made Edward promise that we'd watch something on there. And _soon._

In the six days since that eventful day, life has been rather _un_eventful.

Before I left for Edward's house that eventful day, when my mother sat down at the table for breakfast, she felt that the table was "_wrong_". As soon as she sat down, her freshly cooked breakfast and cup of coffee sat in front of her, she began making a fuss. She huffed and wriggled around in her chair. Then she looked under the table, tapping the table leg closest to her. I'd just sat down opposite her to eat my own breakfast when she sent me her "you've-done-something-wrong" glare. She claimed that I'd moved the table while cleaning. According to her, the table wasn't in the correct position. It was too close to her chest, it was "suffocating". She _then_ proceeded, with all the strength she could find, to push the table away from herself... right into my ribs. It winded me, the brunt of the collision so strong that all the air was forced from my lungs, and I fell from my chair as I doubled over. The pain felt fresh all day; I almost ran from Edward's house when he noticed one of my many winces.

That was the last physical abuse my mother gave me. I've not gained anymore bumps, bruises or scratches since then. Though to say my home life has been uneventful since then would be a lie

When I got home from Edward's, my mother was no where to be seen. After using the opportunity of being home alone to quickly log the bruising on my ribs from the table incident that morning, I began making our dinner and finished my chores. I left my mother's plate in the microwave and ate alone that night. She stumbled into the house at 11pm. I'd stayed up and waited for her to get home. That night, I helped my drunk mother into bed. For the first time.

Every night since then my mother has drunk herself into a stupor, barely coherent enough to sit at the table to eat dinner. How she's managed to get up early and go to work every morning I'll never know. She'd mostly be late home from work, _eventually_ arriving home tipsy. I'm assuming she keeps visiting a bar after work. Then she'd pop open a bottle of wine and finish the entire bottle, a couple of times its been _two_, all by herself. Two nights ago I just left her on the sofa after I tried and tried to wake her up with no such luck. Thankfully she didn't take an insult to that decision.

School is what's been uneventful mostly. Rosalie's click have made no harsh appearances in my week. They've left Edward and I alone to enjoy our lunches. Even the devil-duo payed me no attention during lessons. It was a _pleasant_ change to my usual harassment from them. Though this change does make me nervous. The last time there was a break such as this, they'd been orchestrating the _'__Forks'es Fruitloop'_ poster spectacle. _What are they planning this time?_

It's been six days since mine and Edward's last tutor session, and today we're having another one. This time, however, it's being held at _my_ house. When I approached my mother with the request for this to happen, I was _far _from calm, but I wanted to at least _try_. For Edward. To my utter surprise, my mother had no complaints, she didn't argue agaisnt me. She immediately said _yes_. Also, in an entirely uncharacteristic turn of events, my mother even told me to ignore my chores for today. She wants me to focus on helping her make a good first impression on her boss's son. That meant that I had to work extra hard after my shift at the bookstore yesterday to make the house spotless, but I was honestly too thrilled about today to really care. I did it all with a figurative smile on my face - I never _ever_ clean with an _actual_ smile on my face.

Last night, over a relatively peaceful dinner (the first one she was almost completely sober for, for the first time in six days), Renee asked how long Edward would be here for. I told her what he'd told me, that he could stay as late as 9:00pm, if she'd be okay with it. That's his curfew on school nights. _I'm hoping that having my mother know about Edward's lenient curfew means that she'll perhaps ease up on mine_. It's wishful thinking, but I'm still hoping. My mother was all too happy to hear that, and even offered to make dinner, but I rushed to tell her that we'd just order something to eat. _I don't want my mother's outrageous cooking to poison my only friend._

So, today, Edward will be coming back to my house straight after school. I've already called Angela to ask for today off, something she was happy to do. She says I don't "pull a sicky" nearly as much as I should do, as much as other teens my age would do if they worked for her.

"Woah!" Edward's eyes are wide as I approach him near the bike racks after school. "What the hell has happened to you?"

"Don't even start," I warn him. "I've just had gym."

"Yeah, no shit. What did your class do? Compete in a marathon?" I just glare at him. His eyes don't leave my bright red face as I unlock my bike. I grab the handlebars before we start walking side by side toward the parking lot exit. I side glance to him thirty seconds into our walk to my house. I can still feel his eyes on my face.

"Dude, stop staring!"

"Sorry," he chuckles, looking ahead. His eyes stray to my face no more than ten seconds later. I stop walking without warning, causing him to back track a few paces to stand beside me. "Why'd you stop?"

"'Cause you keep staring!" I exclaim, exasperated. He chuckles again.

"Sorry. I'm trying, but it's hard not to. You are _really _red." I roll my eyes.

"Yes, I know. It happens after all gym classes that involve running." I begin walking again.

"So, after every gym class then," Edward deadpans. I stop walking again, cocking my head as I raise my brow at him. He's smirking. "Okay, okay. I'll stop... _Demi Tomato_," his last moment jibe is hissed out between a loud laugh. I huff and stomp ahead, trailing my bike beside me.

"Okay, Bella. This time I mean it. I'm sorry. Really, I am." I slow my walk as he jogs to catch me up. We're both silent for the following minute. "That was a good one though, wasn't it?" he asks. The easily detectable presence of a smile in his voice has me fighting to keep mine off of my face. _Demi Tomato_... the fact that he incorporated one of my favourite female solo artists, Demi Lovato, into his joke makes the fight harder. "Don't you think?" he prompts, nudging my shoulder with his.

"Yes, it was pretty good," I give in, my smile breaking free. He laughs freely, swinging his arm around my shoulders for a moment so he can give me a brief one-armed hug. The fact that we're both trying to walk beside each other makes it kind of awkward.

Though nothing will beat the awkwardness of the moment Rosalie's red convertible, which is filled with only the girls from their group, passes us. _HONK. HONK_. Everyone walking home around us turns their attention to the passing car... which slows so Rosalie, Lauren, Jessica, _and _Alice can shout-sing "BELLA AND EDWARD SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G...".

The rest of their rhyme fades along with the sight of them. A chorus of laughter mixed with _"ooooh's" _sounds around us. I drop my head down, watching the wheel of my bike turn as I push it. Neither Edward or I says a thing. Not until the area around us is almost void of anyone from school, void of any witnesses to that debacle. The only other people around are two freshmans who are minding their own business, strolling along on the _other _side of the road.

"So," I say, trying to erase the awkward silence, "what's on the agenda for today then?"

"You seem to have gotten the hang of quadratic equations after last week." He's right; I have. I honestly don't know how he did it, but I _finally_ understand them. "So," he continues, "I was thinking we'd move onto something else. Perhaps linear equations?"

I side-eye him.

"Those aren't the graphs, are they?" When Edward responds with a smile and a nod, my shoulders sag and I groan. "_Really? _Do we have to?"

"Well, if you really don't want to, I guess we could begin with polynomials?" he offers with a sly smirk.

"No! I don't want to even _know _what they are. No, no, no. I'm fine with doing the lunar equations," I rush to say, shaking my head vigorously.

"_Linear,_ Bella. Not lunar."

"Do you enjoy correcting me all the time?"

"I'd be lying if I said no."

I shove him into the hedge to his left. When he pulls himself free, he is both shocked and amused. Our laughter is hard to stop most of the way back to my house after that.

Edward waits on the lawn while I lock my bike to the mailbox. I'm silent as I lead him up the porch steps. I try to ignore the shaking of my hands as I slide my key into the door lock. I'm grateful for the fact that Edward pretends to not notice, too.

Once the door is unlocked, a task which took too much time, I step inside. I keep my back to Edward, blocking the doorway while I take a deep breath to calm myself. _Why am I so_ nervous?

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**A/N: Well, how do you think _this_ will go? Let me know ;)**

**See you Monday! Have a good weekend!**


	25. Chapter 25: 'My treat' (Bella POV)

**A/N: New week, new chapters! Enjoy!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_Edward waits on the lawn while I lock my bike to the mailbox. I'm silent as I lead him up the porch steps. I try to ignore the shaking of my hands as I slide my key into the door lock. I'm grateful for the fact that Edward pretends to not notice, too._

_Once the door is unlocked, a task that took too much time, I step inside. I keep my back to Edward, blocking the doorway while I take a deep breath to calm myself. _Why am I so nervous?

Chapter Twenty-five: 'My treat' (Bella POV)

_Friday 2 June 2017_

When the time that I've had my back to Edward is bordering on rude, I finally turn around. "Please, come in," I say quietly, stepping back to allow him entry.

He's looking at me with an odd expression on his face as he steps inside the house. Worry joins my nerves; have I offended him with my behaviour? What must he think? I focus intently on my movements as I close the door, probably a little _t__oo _intently. When I turn back to face Edward, my hands are twisting together, clasped at my front. He's still looking at me with that expression. His brows are pinched together like he's thinking hard, trying to figure something out. When my teeth sink into my bottom lip - it's a bad habit I've had for as long as I can remember; something I do when I'm anxious, nervous and worried - Edward's worrisome frown transforms into a smile. I can literally feel the worry lift from my body.

I unclasp my clammy hands and hold my arms out. "So, this is it." Edward nods, looking around the front entrance hall. I feel a blush tinge my cheeks, embarrassment joining my mess of emotions. "It's nothing like your house," I mumble quietly. His attention sharply turns to me, his observation of my house temporarily forgotten.

"It's lovely, Bella," he says with a smile. I attempt to offer him one in return. I fail. Miserably. And all because I _know_ he's lying. It's not lovely. Sure, it's _clean._ It reminds me of a show home. Impersonal. Nothing that says a family lives here. The bare wall to the right of the entrance, beside the former family room door, is strikingly blank. It _used to _be the home of a wonderful collage of framed photographs. The wall was a montage of our families journey, from my parents as teens, their wedding, my baby years and all the way through to six years ago. After my father's funeral, after the wake and once she was out of the public eye, my mother tore down the photos in a rage. They are now all shoved into a box and stored in the basement. There is no _character_ in this house. Not really.

"Right," I reply, finally using _words,_ though I don't sound all too happy. I try to shake my sudden somber mood both mentally and physically. I don't want to ruin Edward's first time here with depressive shit. "Would you like a drink?" I ask him. He nods, so I lead him through to the kitchen.

After dropping my bag to the floor beside the breakfast table, where Edward decides to sit, I have a look in the fridge. "Hmm... we have orange juice, milk, cans of Coke?" I rattle off what I see. When I get no reply, I stand from my slightly bent over position and partially turn to look at Edward. He fidgets in the seat, the tips of his ears red.

"Uuuh," he hesitates, obviously stumped. _I guess he doesn't want any of those._

"Or you can have some water? Coffee? Tea?"

"Water will be fine. Thank you, Bella," he answers, rather formally.

I feel my brows furrow as I reply with a slow, drawn out, "O-_kaaay_." I grab two glasses and turn back to him. "Ice?". He nods silently. I carry over our glasses of water and hand him his. He gulps half of it down within seconds. Meanwhile, my glass is held frozen in the air close to my mouth while I watch on in confusion. _What is up with him?_

"You ready to begin with the torture, I mean tutoring?" I ask, trying to distract him from whatever seems to have bothered him. It works. He chuckles at my question, nodding as he stands.

"Sure."

"Where would be best? We could use the dining room, or my bedroom like we do at your house? I have a desk in there, though it's pretty small-"

"Let's just use the dining room," he says quickly, interrupting the end of my sentence.

"Okay. Let me give you a brief tour first, not that there's much to see." He just rolls his eyes at my statement. No more than three and a half minutes later, I lead him into the dining room. "It looks like it's going to rain, otherwise I'd have suggested using the backyard," I tell him, nodding to the window that's at the end of the table. The previously blue sky is now a dreary grey.

He shrugs. "Here is fine," he replies, pulling out one of the chairs before he begins retrieving things from inside his bag. I pull out the chair opposite his, and drop my bag onto it.

"Let me just go change real quick, and then we can begin." I leave him in the dining room as I quickly run up the stairs. I go to my room and pull off my charcoal Converse, which I place at the bottom of my wardrobe. From my dresser, I pull out a pair of black three-quarter length sweatpants, and after slipping off my denim pinafore dress I wore today, I put them on. The AC/DC band-tee I was wearing underneath the pinafore, I keep on. I quickly check my appearance in the mirror, looking most importantly at my face to make sure my concealer is still masking my freckles before I head down stairs. "Okay, I'm back. Let's start."

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"Done," I announce happily. Edward takes the worksheet from my side of the table, pushes aside the homework he'd been doing while he waited for me to finish, and places it down to start marking it. I'm watching his pen, my smile growing with every little 'tick' I see him draw. The last one is the _only _one he marks with a 'cross'. When he looks up at me, a proud smile graces his face.

"I have to say, Bella, I'm impressed. You got all but one correct. We've only been doing these for an hour. You've picked it up really quick." I can't prevent the big, stupid grin that stretches across my face.

After an hour of _linear_ equations, of me not picking it up _at all_, Edward suggested we take a break from them and try something else for now. He said he'd discuss with his teacher simpler ways he could explain linear equations. Instead of those, he helped me with trigonometry, specifically 'Trigonometric functions'. It requires a fancier calculator than my standard one. For this one occasion, Edward let me use his, though he advised me to get my own one soon, as they are "vital" - his words, not mine. I've always dreaded learning about this. In class, we briefly touched on it closer to the beginning of the year, but once words such as sine, cosine and tangent were used, I was lost. Miraculously, Edward somehow managed to help it all make sense today. _Again._ I honestly don't know how he does it. He has a way of explaining things like no teacher can.

"Thank you." I lean across the table, looking at the one - the _only_ one - I got wrong. "So, explain where I failed with the last one." He turns the paper so we can both see it a bit easier, and, using the end of his green "correction" pen to point, he begins to explain to me what I did wrong.

"Well, you see, you should have used _sine_, because it's opposite and-"

A loud _BANG!_ echos through the house, startling both me and Edward. I quickly stand, my heart feeling like it's jumped to my throat as I speedwalk to the front hall. Edward is close on my heels. My heart drops to my stomach, the colour in my cheeks leaking away as I watch my mother clumsily kick off her heels. She closes the door with another loud _BANG!_, just as she'd opened it.

She's oblivious to her audience of two. I don't even want to _glimpse _at Edward's expression right now. _How could she do this? Today of all days!_

"Oh," she stumbles back a few steps when she sees me and Edward stood in the corner of the room, watching her trainwreck. I rush forward, reaching out to steady her. "I'm fine, Bella. Stop fussing," she says in a soft, light tone. I have to fight the urge to frown at her change in behaviour. She giggles, very out of character, and lifts her eyes to look behind me. I'm assessing her appearance, her eyes, her balance, I'm even trying to get a subtle whiff of her scent, all to determine how much my mother has had to drink. She doesn't _seem _drunk, I realise now that I've been stood watching her. She's just tipsy.

She steps back with an unsteady foot and I reach out to help balance her again. She giggles once more. "What is she like?" She directs her question to Edward. I don't turn to see his reaction, but he doesn't offer a verbal one. "I said I'm fine, Bells," she tells me, reaching up to lightly tap my cheek. My sudden gasp isn't at her _g__entle_ physical contact. No. It's at her use of my old nickname, the one my father used. The one that _only _my father used. My eyes grow wide as I stare at her in shock, filling with dreaded tears. I haven't heard that nickname in so long_. What the heck is she playing at? _"Well, are you just going to stand here? Or are you going to introduce me to the handsome boy behind you?" I snap myself out of my shock and, after blinking away the tears, turn my body so I'm facing Edward, who's blushing, but so I still don't have my back to my mother completely.

"Of course. Um, Edward, this is my mother, Renee. _Mom_," I say, having to force out the title, so used to calling her 'Mother' aloud and often 'Renee' in my head, "this is Edward Cullen."

She walks around me, her steps much more balanced now as she focuses on getting to Edward. She stops a few feet in front of him and shakes his hand. "Edward, it's so lovely to _finally _meet one of my Bella's friends," she greets him, pretending to be a kind, warm-hearted human being. "It's been _years_ since she brought _anyone_ home." I blush a deep red and glance down at my sock-clad feet.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs..." he trails off, unsure of how to address my mother. I get why. He isn't sure if she still has my father's name so long after his death.

"Renee is fine." Edward nods silently at that, a genuine smile on his face as he shakes my mother's hand.

"So," my mother says, not stepping away from Edward, "how is the tutoring going?" she asks. When she turns to briefly look at me, I almost shudder at the sight of the forced pleasantness that's plastered onto her face.

"It's going really well. Bella is doing great. We're flying through the work," Edward answers. My mother smiles sweetly at him.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Renee exclaims, clapping her hands together. "I'm glad to hear it. Well, I think you kids deserve a treat. Are you hungry?" My heart does a triple skip and a sweat breaks out on my forehead. _Shitting shit! _She's going to offer to cook! Edward nods and I do what could be better described as a tilt of my head. "Great. What do you want? Pizza? Chinese?"

My sigh of relief is very nearly audible in the small entrance hall. Both me and my mother look to Edward, waiting for his opinion seeing as he's the guest. "Oh, I don't mind really... pizza?"

Renee smiles kindly, patting his shoulder before walking toward the kitchen door. "What toppings?" she turns to ask us both.

"Pepperoni," we answer, turning to grin at one another when we say it at the same time.

"Okay. I'll go order that now. Why don't you two take a break?" she suggests. Edward and I glance to one another, silently deciding. He raises his shoulders and I tilt my head. We both nod and turn back to Renee.

"Sounds good. I think we've done enough for now," Edward says. His confidence in speaking to my mother makes me feel a little envious. I barely got two words out in front of his parents, only having really felt at ease when alone with Edward, or his housekeeper, Beverly. _I still can't believe he has a housekeeper, though I shouldn't really be surprised._

My mother turns away from the kitchen door to walk over to the entrance table that stands beside the front door. There, she gets her wallet out of her purse, before fishing out some cash. She presses the bills into my palm, and looking me straight in the eye, the smile still firmly in place, she says, "Why don't you go to Main Street to get yourselves some snacks for after dinner. My treat."

My mouth slackens, my jaw dropping. In a completely different state of emotion to my shocked and speechless, Edward steps closer, the appreciation clear in his voice as he replies. "Thank you, Renee. That's so kind of you. But are you sure?" Her smile broadens at his praise. Her hand falls away from mine as she waves off his search for uncertainty.

"Of course I'm sure. I remember how hard school work was, and that was _years_ ago. It's only increased in difficulty since then. It's not a problem."

There's a part of me that wants to laugh at my mother's behaviour that's so polar opposite from how she is with _just_ me. Maybe having Edward around more could be used as a buffer against her angry outbursts toward me. Then there's another part of me that wants to cry; why can't she be like this all the time? So pleasant and kind, her words spoken calmly, her touch gentle.

"Thank you, _Mom_," I say, holding eye contact with her for an extended second. Then I turn away, putting my back to her so I can address Edward. "I'll just grab my shoes and a hoodie and then we'll go?" He nods, and I race upstairs. I move the quickest I've ever moved, not wanting to leave my best friend alone in a room with _her_ for long. I don't even bother getting back into my denim pinafore, deciding to stay in the sweatpants as I grab my black, scruffy pair of converse and my large black AC/DC hoodie.

I race back down, sitting on the bottom step to tie my laces. Edward is stood by the door, alone. "Where's R-... my mom?"

"In the kitchen, ordering the pizza."

I nod, standing up. I slip on my hoodie, my head popping through the correct hole just as my mother comes waltzing back into the room. My eyes are drawn to the bottle of white wine she holds in her left hand. She's not got a glass.

"We should be back before the pizza arrives," I say, my eyes flickering between her face and the bottle nervously. I'm hoping that my intended pleading look is visible. _Please don't get drunk! _I know there's a pack of beer cans in the fridge, as well as a bottle of Vodka in a cupboard. Her stats of alcohol seems to be growing by the day.

Renee nods. "Of course you will," she says confidently. There are no fast food places here in Forks. The closest one is in a small town, but not as small as Forks, that's about a half hour drive West.

I make sure I have my phone, my keys and the cash. Then I head for the door. "Ah ah!" Renee protests, reaching out to grab my arm. I pray to whatever powers at be are up there that Edward didn't notice my flinch. "Hug, please." I stand, stupidly staring at my mother silently, my mouth gaping for several seconds before I snap out of it and slowly hug her. When her head is next to mine, her arms wrapped around me tightly, she quietly whispers in my ear. "Make sure you pay me back later." The words are too quiet for Edward to hear them. I'm _almost_ too distracted by the wine bottle I can feel resting against my shoulder to catch her words. I don't miss them, however, and I imperceptibly nod before I pull back. She brushes some imaginary dirt from my shoulder before stepping away completely. "Right. Off you go then. See you both in a while."

I lead Edward from the house after he thanks her again. We're at the end of my street when he finally breaks our silence. "Your Mom is so nice, Bella. I can't remember the last time mine asked me for a hug," he says wistfully.

I offer him a tenser than tense smile as a form of reply. The words I think in response remain in my head, where they're safe: _You know what, Edward? Aside from today, neither can I._

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**A/N: This day isn't over just yet. I'll be back on Wednesday with what happens next...**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you liked! Don't be afraid to leave a review... seriously! The review section of this story is starting to get cobwebs. **


	26. Chapter 26: 'but that's not why' (EPOV)

**A/N: Back to Edward's POV for a few chapters.**

**Thanks you to the guest reviewer! The chapters will vary in length, the most recent ones I've written are longer, but they won't be uploaded for a little while yet (I'm quite a few chapters ahead of this one). I can't reply to your review unless you sign in, but thank you anyway! Once I've completed this story, I will increase to uploading one chapter every day and I ****_may _****reply to reviews with a preview of the next chapter, but I don't know how long it's going to take to finish it all so please don't expect either of those changes just yet.**

**Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. Here's chapter 26 for you! Carrying on straight from the last chapter, but with a different POV. Just as a reminder, last time we were with Bella & Edward, they'd just left her house...**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Twenty-six: 'But that's not why' (Edward POV)

_Friday 2 June 2017_

The walk to Forks' town center is quiet. Bella's been in the same position - hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie, her face down, watching her feet as she walks - since we left her house. I've tried striking up a conversation with her, but after firstly commenting on how nice Renee is, which got me the barest of smiles, and then after a few minutes telling her how lucky she is to have someone like Renee as a parent, to which I received an even thinner smile, I just decided to shut up.

Bella must be more of a private person than I initially thought. When we first began organising places to study, we'd both complained about our parents being awkward. Her Mom's excuse was that their house was too much of a mess... either they've done some _serious_ cleaning before my arrival today, or Bella lied. Thinking back to her reaction last Saturday when I suggested using her house, and now to how nervous she's been acting today, maybe she was trying to prevent me from coming over.

I have to say, I am a little envious of Bella after witnessing how relaxed and laid back her mother is. Renee had obviously visited a bar after work before coming home. That didn't bother me at all. It just appears that's how she is. My parents, especially my mother, would never _ever _let themselves go like that. Definitely not in front of visitors. It was... refreshing. And the way Renee welcomed me? It was so warm and inviting, nothing like the impersonal, stiff and overly polite way my parents greeted Bella with. Having met her Mom, and knowing how great a person Bella is, it makes me sad that I never got the chance to meet her father.

"I was thinking we'd go to the sweet shop?" Bella suggests out of the blue when we're about a minute from Main Street. Having been lost in my own thoughts, I'm shocked to hear Bella's voice. She's been so silent since we left her house, I was expecting it to carry on. I nod, and offer her a smile. When she offers one in return, her shoulders relaxing from their tense place up by her ears, I feel myself relax, too. _Aaah, there's the Bella I've come to know._

"Hank!" Bella shouts once we reach Main Street. We are just across the road from Forks' only sweet shop. An old man, who's in the middle of picking up a folded up chalkboard sign from by the door, turns when she shouts the name, a large smile breaking out across his face_. This must be Hank_.

We cross the road to the elderly man - _Hank. _"Aah, hello, Bella. Back again for more of your favourites?" he asks. She nods, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

"Sure am. Are you closing up?"

Hank nods. "I was, but I can make an exception for you. Come on in." He leads us in, and after placing the sign behind the door, walks over to the counter. I look around in awe. How have I lived in Forks for almost two months and not set foot in this place yet? It's like something straight out of a Willy Wonka dream!

I hear a deep chuckle, and look over to Hank, who's watching me. "Who's the young man you've brought with you today, Bella?" he asks. We both look to where she's stood, by the - _oh no!_ \- by the freaking Gummi Bears. Bella sends me an evil smirk at my look of disgust, before she turns to face Hank.

"Hank, this is my friend, Edward Cullen. Edward, this is Hank, the owner."

"It's nice to meet you," I say, waving casually.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Edward. I've heard about your family moving here, though you're the first I've met." I silently smile, not really wanting to get onto the topic of my family right now. "I must say, Bella, it's lovely to see you bring someone in here again." Bella's smile is as strained as mine was a moment ago. _Again?_

"We're taking a break from studying so I thought I'd come and show Edward your shop, Hank," she replies sweetly, walking up to the register _with _a bag of Gummi Bears. _Yuk!_ I begin looking around.

"Make sure you kids don't overdo it with all the schoolwork they give you. It's ridiculous how much they put on you all nowadays. My granddaughter, Becky, is only eight and she's swamped with it almost every weekend."

"Becky is _eight_? Wow. Last time I saw her she was barely walking."

"Aah, yes, that was some time ago. We don't get to see her as often as we'd like, with our daughter and her husband being in California now. But they try to visit as often as they can. I think I actually have a photograph of Becky somewhere..."

I continue perusing the shelves while I listen to Bella and Hank talk. They obviously know each other well.

"Aah, here it is. This was her last school photo."

"Oh my! She is so grown up. So pretty."

The smile in Hank's voice is palpable as he replies, "Yes she is. She gets it from her mother... _and _her grandmother of course." Bella giggles at that.

"Is Cynthia here? I'd love to say hello." There's a pause after Bella's request.

"Uuh, not today. She's sleeping at the moment. Maybe next time." The tension in Hank's voice, such a drastic change from the relaxed and light tone he spoke with moments ago, causes me to look over at him, concerned.

"O-okay," Bella replies, stuttering. "Well, give her my best, then." Hank nods with a smile.

"Will do."

Obviously done with the conversation, now that it's taken a strange, plummeting change of direction, both of their attentions zone in on me. "You found something you want, Edward?" Bella asks.

I grab the packet of Twizzlers off the rack on the far right side of the room and make my way over to the register. "Yep!"

"Thanks, Hank. See you soon," Bella calls out to him several minutes later as we're leaving, purchases in hand.

"You're welcome, Bella. See you soon. Bye, Edward."

"Bye."

We step out of the shop and cross over to the other side of the road. I turn left, ready to head back to Bella's, but she has other plans, turning right. "Bella? Your house is this way." She looks over her shoulder at me, but doesn't stop striding.

With a roll of her eyes, she replies, "I _know _where my house is, Edward, we're just not going back yet."

I jog to catch up with her. "Why? Where are we going?"

"My mom said '_snacks_', plural, as in more than one thing. And we have some change left over from the sweets. How do some chips sound?" I grin and soon we're entering the small grocery store that's further down the street. Bella doesn't know the owner of this as well as she does Hank. Hardly at all, it would seem. She speaks the bare minimum to the lady behind the counter, just to say "thank you" once she's paid.

We are far more talkative on the walk back than we were on the way from Bella's house, both of us carrying a pack of sweets and chips.

"Do you think we've done enough for today?" she asks as we turn onto her street.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not really in the mood to do any more learning. Maybe once we've eaten, we could just watch a movie or something."

I think about it. We did do over two hours without a break, and after seeing how well she did with the trig questions, maybe she does deserve a break. _We_ deserve a break.

"Okay. Sure. What movie?"

"I don't know. We'll have a look once we've eaten." As we walk across her lawn, she giggles.

"What's got you so amused?" I ask, grinning.

"I was just thinking, how opposed would you be to a Nicholas Sparks movie?"

"Romance?" I ask. She nods, grinning, and my nose wrinkles. _Ugh._

She laughs louder this time.

"Thought so." Her smile is contagious as we walk into her house.

The door is still open when a car horn sounds from behind us. We both turn, to see its the pizza delivery guy. "Oh," Bella squeaks, holding up her hand to the guy before she quickly walks into the kitchen, emerging seconds later without her snacks but with some cash. He walks up the steps with two pizza boxes in his hold.

After a quick exchange of money and food, Bella kicks the door shut behind us. "Let's get this while it's still hot!" she says, walking into the kitchen. "Mom!" she shouts as she places the boxes down on the kitchen counter. I look behind me, toward the hallway. Her mom doesn't answer. Bella sighs as she bends to get two plates out of a cupboard.

I am so glad she's not wearing that denim dress thing she had on earlier. It wasn't short by any means - that's not Bella's style - but when she bent over to look into the fridge, the back of it rid up her thighs slightly... and I suddenly had a problem. I was so outraged at myself. It was the first time I'd had a physical reaction to a girl... well, it was the first time when in their presence. I honestly didn't know what to do, feeling both embarrassed and... _confused._ I didn't think I saw Bella in that way. Sure, she's beautiful, anyone can see that. But I didn't think I was attracted to her like that. _My body obviously disagrees._

Bella sighs again, turning to me. "Would you mind checking the front room for me, Edward? She's probably got the TV turned up." I nod and do as she asks.

When I walk into what Bella called the _'family'_ room during the quick tour of her house, I come to a sudden stop, frozen at the sight before me. Bella was right about one thing; the TV _is _turned up ridiculously loud. But that's not why Renee couldn't hear her daughter calling for her. The _real_ reason for that is because she is asleep... actually it's more likely she's passed out. She's on her side, sprawled across the three seater sofa that's in the center of the room, opposite the large TV. There's an empty bottle of white wine on the end table behind her head, and several cans of beer litter the coffee table in front of her. _Did she drink all of this in that short half an hour we were gone?_

The alcohol containers aren't even the worst part, though. There's a horrible smell in the air, and when I walk further into the room, to see if I can perhaps wake her up for dinner, I see why. Her arm is dangling off the sofa, her hand laying in a pool of vomit. My hand comes up to cover my nose and mouth.

I'm just about to shout for Bella when she appears in the room, obviously coming to see what was taking so long. Her eyes go wide as she rushes toward me. "No," she gasps, tears filling her eyes. She slowly walks forward, passing me as if I'm not even in the room. I see her shoulders rise and fall heavily. With her back to me, in a monotone voice, she says, "I'm so sorry about this, Edward."

I don't say anything - I wouldn't know _what _to say. Bella's sigh is loud as she picks up the remote that's on the coffee table and turns down the TV. _Finally_, that thing was so loud I could feel a headache coming on. Then she starts picking up the cans. I try helping, but Bella's sharp "No!" as my hand wraps around one of the cans causes me to stop.

"Let me help, Bella," I say quietly. I watch her crestfallen face as her eyes squeeze shut.

"_No_, Edward. I don't need any help." I hold my hands up and stand to my full height, stepping back. Bella heaves another sigh, cans in hand as she turns to face me. Well, not _face _me. She keeps her eyes downcast. "You should leave," she says.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah... that just happened. Please don't hate me, even though I hate me for leaving it here! It will be continued in less than 48 hours!**

**This with Renee was planned from the very beginning. There have been many things that have been spontaneous, something I've had the urge to write and add in as I've gone along, but there are also many events in this story that were planned from the beginning. Renee getting stupidly drunk on Edward's first visit was always going to happen.**

**What do you think of the events in this chapter? There are some new, confusing feelings and then of course the trouble with Renee? Let me know in a review!**

**Like I said at the very start of this story, I am from England so may get certain terms and names of things wrong, as this is an America based story. Is it called a sweet shop? It's what _I'd_ call a shop that sells sweets. Candy store did come to my mind very briefly, but I wasn't 100% sure so just left it like this. **

**Anyway, thanks again for reading! I'll be back Friday with the next chapter! See you then.**


	27. Chapter 27: 'Why do you hide' (EPOV)

**A/N: Thank you, Cmread! You're my most frequent reviewer!**

**Enjoy, all!**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_"Let me help, Bella," I say quietly. I watch her crestfallen face as her eyes squeeze shut._

_"_No_, Edward. I don't need any help." I hold my hands up and stand to my full height, stepping back. Bella heaves another sigh, cans in hand as she turns to face me. Well, not _face_ me. She keeps her eyes downcast. "You should leave," she says._

Chapter Twenty-seven: 'Why do you hide?' (Edward POV)

_Friday 2 June 2017_

"What? _No_, Bella. I don't want to go." Why would she say that?

Her head shoots up, her face showing her surprise. "Why? Why would you want to stay?"

"Because... I was looking forward to pizza, and then a movie. I'd love to still do that... if you want to," I add at the end, unsure of what she wants. She may _want_ me to go.

"No, I mean _yes_. I'd still like to do that. Just..." She sighs. "Just let me clean all_ this _up first."

"Do you want some help?"

"No!" she shouts. Renee twitches on the sofa, causing Bella to look over her shoulder worriedly before nudging me to walk ahead of her. We enter the kitchen and the smell of the freshly made pizza is like a godsend after having my airways polluted with the stench of Renee's vomit mixed with the potent aroma of alcohol.

Bella drops all the cans onto the breakfast table before turning to me. "Are you sure you want to stay? I wouldn't take offense if you wanted to leave." She then looks down at her hands and starts picking at a nail. "I wouldn't even blame you for not wanting to speak to me ever again."

I step closer to her, my hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "Bella," I say softly, and then wait for her to look at me. She does. _Finally. _"I am _not _going to leave, and I am certainly not thinking about leaving your life _completely._ Why would I? Because your mom has had a little too much to drink? It doesn't bother me." At her raised brow and disbelieving expression, I finish with a firm, "Honestly!"

Still, she doesn't look convinced. In fact, she looks close to tears. I pull her toward me and wrap my arms around her shoulders. I feel her relax against my chest. "You're sure?" she murmurs quietly. I chuckle against her hair.

"Yes. I'm one hundred percent sure," I reply, and then, in a totally unplanned, natural move, I press a kiss to the top of her head. She seems to melt even further into me, which is shocking, because as soon as I kissed her head I regretted it, but only because I thought she'd think it was weird. After a few more seconds of standing in her kitchen, she starts to pull away.

"Okay. If you're _sure, _then I'll just clean up... _that_," she pulls a face as she gestures in the general direction of Renee and her mess, "and then we'll watch a film."

I offer to help another time, but she practically bites my head off and tells me to enjoy the pizza. I obey, sitting down at the table to eat a couple slices, though there isn't much enjoying done on my part. It tastes nice enough, but I'm put off by Bella's current situation and how bad I feel for her. I watch her as she gets some cleaning products from a cupboard and leaves the room, returning ten minutes later with gloves on holding a bin bag and wearing a grimace. It's another fifteen minutes and two more trips in and out of the kitchen for Bella before she plops herself down to sit at kitchen table, which is now free of any cans.

"Done?" I ask. She nods tiredly. I get my phone out of my pocket to glance at the time. It's just gone six p.m. and Bella looks ready to fall asleep. "You okay?" I ask. She blinks slowly as she nods. "Hungry?" I ask, pushing the pizza box toward her. She looks at it with a grimace. She even looks a little green.

"I am, but I don't think I can eat right now, not after cleaning all..." she trails off. "Yeah, I'm alright. We'll just take the box up with us," she announces as she stands.

"Up?" I question. She turns to me.

"Yeah. It's better if we go up to my room to watch the movie. I've left my mom asleep on the couch so I don't want to use either TV down here and chance waking her up. Best to let her sleep it off. We can use my laptop. Is that okay?" I nod, though by the sounds of it, it wouldn't matter either way. Looks like we don't have a choice.

I want to ask her if this happens often, Renee drinking so much that Bella is left to look after her like _she_ were the adult, but I also don't want to keep her mind on it.

Bella grabs a couple cans of coke and the pizza box while I pick up our snacks, before she leads us upstairs. Once her door is shut and light on, she unceremoniously drops the pizza box onto her bed. After placing the cans on one of her nightstands, she drags off her hoodie. The bottom of the AC/DC t-shirt she has on underneath slides up, revealing a sliver of skin and I quickly glance away, not wanting a repeat of earlier. "Uuh, do you mind if I sit?" I ask.

"No, of course not. Make yourself comfortable." I nod and go to sit on the end of the bed while she heads for her wardrobe.

"Could you grab my laptop from my desk? I'm just going to get changed out of these clothes. I feel... _icky,_" she tells me. I feel my eyes go wide as I stare at her. She stops in the process of pulling something out of her wardrobe when she sees my expression. She rolls her eyes. "In the _bathroom_, Edward. I'm getting changed in the _bathroom_. Not in here," she giggles. My mouth drops open and I blush. Of course. I shake my head at myself as I get up to grab her laptop. She quickly types in her password before leaving the room.

While she's changing in the bathroom, I get comfy on her bed, sitting the pillows up against the headboard so it'll be comfier to lean against its iron frame. Her bed isn't as big as mine - no where _near_ as big - but it'll fit the both of us on... just about.

I look up from Bella's laptop screen as she enters the room. I have to keep my eyes from widening _again_ when I see what she's changed into: a black thick-strapped tank top and a pair of green sweat shorts. It's the shortest thing I've ever seen her in, the most skin she's ever had on show around me. I can't be shocked though, can I? This is her home after all. She has a right to be comfortable. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head, and the necklace chains I've caught glimpses of, the ones she seems to always be wearing, are much more revealed now. The shorter one is a locket, in the shape of a heart. And the other, the longer chain, travels down her neck, past her collarbone, and further still until whatever hangs on the end of it disappears into her... chest... area, underneath her top. She smiles at me as climbs onto the bed beside me, and that's when I get a closer look at her face and notice something new.

"Have you always had freckles?" I ask unthinkingly. Bella blushes and covers her face with a gasp. "What's wrong?" She groans and turns away from me. "Bella?"

"Shit," she curses quietly. "Shit!" she repeats, louder this time.

"Bella?" I pull on her arm but she tugs free of my grip and turns her back to me fully.

"I can't believe I forgot. I washed my face and _completely_ forgot about the makeup. Shit," she mumbles. It seems like she's talking more to herself than she is to me.

"Bella? Do you hide them?" I ask her, kind of understanding her mumbled words. I sigh when she keeps her back to me. "For God's sake, Bella. Will you look at me?" My tone is bordering on harsh, though I never intended for it to come out that way. She turns to me slowly, her eyes downcast, a blush colouring her cheeks. Her blush is even darker than I thought, I realise, now that I can see it without any barriers. I can also, for the first time, see the lovely dusting of freckles she has across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. "You're still not looking at me," I dip down to say. She glances at me hesitantly. "What's wrong? Why do you hide your freckles?"

"Because they're ugly!" she exclaims in exasperation, lifting her hands and slapping them down to the bed.

"Don't be ridiculous. They're _not_ ugly. What gave you that idea? They're lovely." She blushes at my words, but this time she doesn't look down. Instead, she rolls her eyes and pulls herself round to sit beside me once more.

"Yeah, right! You _have _to say that 'cause you're my friend," she scoffs. I chuckle quietly, nudging her shoulder with mine.

"Not true. If anything, being your friend means that I should tell you the _truth_. Which I am when I say that you're beautiful, Bella. And your freckles are included in that. There is not one part of you that's ugly."

She turns her head to look at me. Our noses are almost touching, and we're so close that I can feel her breath on my face. Her - _finally_ \- expressive eyes are searching mine, but for what, I have no clue. "Really?" she whispers.

"Yes, Bella," I reply with a nod, putting as much conviction as I can behind my words. Her lips pull up into the gentlest of smiles, drawing my attention to them. I can feel my heart rate increasing, and know that I should pull away. But I can't. My eyes jump between her lips and her eyes, not knowing which to settle on. When I see her having the same battle, and I can feel the beginnings of my problem from before resurfacing, I finally regain enough will power to turn away. I clear my throat, leaning away from her slightly before I turn to the laptop that's on my lap. I can sense her still looking at me, but I try to busy myself with opening up her already installed Netflix app.

"So," I begin, putting as much enthusiasm as I can into my voice, "what shall we watch?"

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"Was that seriously _based_ on a true story?" I ask, still not quite believing that a person actually went through all of that in real life.

Bella couldn't believe it either, so she's currently Googling it... all while wiping her tears away with a tissue. She sniffles as she nods. "Yeah. It says here that it is! It says... _as shocking as the movie is, Susannah in __**Brain on Fire **is a real person, and the true story is just as terrifying as what's depicted..."_ She goes silent as she reads the article in her head. "_Oh_!" she suddenly exclaims. "And it's a book!" she perks up at that news.

"Another one for the collection, then?" I ask teasingly, looking pointedly at the overly stacked bookshelves that are on the wall above a wooden storage chest in the corner of her room. She just nods, like it's no big deal she wants _another_ book. "Can I...?" I gesture to the shelves. She nods, still distracted with reading more on '_Brain On Fire__'_, the movie we just watched.

I read the spines of Bella's books, noticing how some look more worn than others, their spines badly creased. I have to chuckle when I see that it's the romance books that have had the most use. She owns mostly paperback books, with a few hardcovers that look to be only Jane Austen books on the bottom shelf. Even though she seems to be a fan of the lovey-dovey writing of authors like Nicholas Sparks - she has _many_ books by him stacked on here - she also has some Stephen King and even a few thrillers.

I'm shocked to see _Casino_, the book that's about and has the same title as the gangster movie that starrs Robert De Niro. I pick it up and show it to her with a raised brow. I wait a few seconds, but she's so engrossed in what she's reading, her bottom lip trapped beneath her teeth revealing her concentration, that I have to clear my throat to get her attention.

"Yes?" she says once she sees the book I'm holding.

"You're into books about gangsters, Bella?" I ask incredulously. A far away look replaces her comcentration before she focuses back on me and she shrugs.

"Yeah. My dad _loved _the movie to that, and it was the _only_ book he'd read. That was his copy actually. A couple years ago I found it in a box of his stuff and decided to read it. It's actually pretty good. Gives much more detail than the movie."

I stare at her for several seconds, not really trusting my ears. "You've watched the movie?" I try to make the question sound casual, but some of my skepticism reaches my voice. _I've _not even watched the movie yet. My parents won't let me; apparently I'm still too young.

She nods, and pushes the laptop away so she can stand. Once she reaches my side, she takes the book from my hands. I don't know if she realises it, but she begins stroking the cover adoringly. "It's a great movie. It's violent... but what else can you expect from a Mafia based film." She glances at me. "Why do you look so surprised?"

"I don't know... you're just such a huge fan of all that romantic stuff, I didn't think something like _this _would be your kind of thing," I answer truthfully.

She laughs loudly. "Oh, Edward. My tastes are _very_ versatile. I'll read anything I can get my hands on. And, you know, _all that romantic stuff_ isn't so bad." I do nothing to hide my skepticism now. I scoff at her words. "Really!" She places _Casino _back on the shelf and instantly reaches for a book on the top shelf, not having to even search for it, like she knew _exactly _where it was. "Here. Read this." It's not a request, more of a demand.

I am already protesting before the _demand _has completely left her mouth, stepping back and shaking my head, hands held up. "No, Bella. I really don't want to." She tilts her head and raises a brow, her mouth pulled into a stern line. I sigh and look down at the book she's holding out between us. I glance back up at her face and then down to the book again. Hesitating only a second more, I take the book from her hand. _The Fault In Our Stars _by John Green. I sigh once more as I turn it over to read the back.

Now it's my turn to give _her_ a stern look. "It sounds depressing."

She crosses her arms. "It's incredible! It teaches you so much about life and living in the moment, about appreciating the little things and not taking advantage of anything. It's about love and life and death. It's... oh my God, it's just so incredible! _Please_ read it?" When she clasps her hands under her chin and looks at me from beneath her eyelashes, my last bit of restraint evaporates.

"Fine," I grumble. "But don't expect me to like it."

"Yay!" she cheers as she jumps up and down and claps her hands, disturbingly reminding me a lot of my sister. "Thank you!" she exclaims as she throws herself into me, her arms wrapping tight around my neck. I have to react fast before we are both on the floor, stepping out to balance myself as I catch her with my arms, _very_ nearly dropping the book. She pulls back moments later. The smile on her face is beaming, and I know for a fact that it'll be worth the torture of reading this mushy crap just to see that smile. "And don't worry, you'll like it," she quips confidently, patting my shoulder.

"Mm hmm. We'll see."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you like how this went. I was torn between a more dramatic reaction from Edward toward the Renee thing and a more calm route, but in the end went with this! If you're disappointed by the more calm approach I've gone with, then don't you worry; there is _plenty_ of drama to come!**

**I hope you liked their time in her room, too. I love writing the more calm, what some may class as "filler" ****scenes (though I think they're important), where these two are getting to know each other. I love it as much as I find the drama scenes exciting to write! **

**Once again, thanks for reading and I'll see you next week! Don't forget to review! :)**


	28. Chapter 28: 'The best of Forks' (EPOV)

**A/N: I got an influx of reviews from gorgo67 a couple days ago and it made my day! Thank you!**

**Here's the next chapter! It's just over a week after where the last chapter left off! Enjoy!**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Twenty-eigt: 'The best of Forks' (Edward POV)

_Sunday 11 June 2017_

"Damn, I wish I had this room in my house," Bella sighs contentedly, having _finally _stopped crying, as she swings herself round so her legs are hooked over the back of the sectional and her head hangs off the couch cushion. "That movie has never looked or sounded so good!" I grin down at her from my place beside her on the media room's u-shaped sectional. "So..." she lifts her head slightly so she can see me better from her upside down position. "What did you think of it?"

"It was good... but I preferred the book," I answer.

"Yes!" she hisses as she fist pumps the air, forcing a laugh from me. "That was the correct answer."

I copy Bella and move to lie upside down on the couch cushion beside her, dangling my legs over the backrest while I hang my head backwards, looking at the large square coffee table that sits in the center of the U-shape. Bella and I both turn our heads at the same time, so we're now facing each other but still upside down - at least to the rest of the world. She's the right way up from where I am.

"They definitely chose the right actor and actress for the main parts," I muse aloud, thinking back to the man and woman who were cast as Hazel Grace and Gus... _yes,_ I admit it. I _loved_ the book Bella lent me to read. I loved it so much that we just finished watching the movie adaptation.

Bella was ecstatic when I called her late the Tuesday after she lent me the book, raving about how great I thought it was. Unfortunately, she took my positive reaction to this one book as an approval to begin recommending others, assuming I'd enjoy _all _romance books. When Nicholas Sparks' work joined her excited verbal listing of books to me down the phone, I just hung up. The text I got in reply to that was an angry face emoji, though the next day at school she wasn't angry at all.

"I know right? It is literally like they plucked the characters right out of the book! Though, it was strange seeing the two of them kiss when I first watched it."

"Why?"

"'Cause they play brother and sister in a movie called _Divergent_."

"No way!" I gasp. "Seriously?"

"Yep! _Oh_, we should watch it! _And_ you should read the books! It's a trilogy!"

"Bella," I say in a deep warning. She smirks as she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I know. No more recommending books."

"No, you can recommend them. Just don't-"

"_Edward_! You and Isabella sit on those chairs properly or you don't use this room at all!" Both Bella and I startle at my mother's sudden appearance. Bella quickly obeys, sitting up in the chair properly in the blink of an eye. I move at a more leisurely pace. Bella is bright red. I, on the other hand, have to contain my eye roll.

"Yes, Mom."

"Sorry, Mrs. Cullen."

My mom crosses her arms and leaves the room without another word. Bella and I are silent for a few seconds.

"I guess I should be going, now that your family are back," she announces as she stands from the chair, folding up the blanket and laying it neatly on the arm. She only came by this afternoon because my family were out running errands in Port Angeles. She begins picking up the trash from the snacks she got from the large selection across the room.

"Bella, you don't have to clean up. Just leave that-"

"For Bev to do?" she interrupts coldly, completing my sentence - _incorrectly_, might I add. "No, thank you. I'm quite capable."

"I was _going_ to say you can leave that for _me_ to clear away," I correct her as I stand. She halts and looks over at me guiltily.

"Sorry, Edward. I didn't mean to snap at you."

I sigh. "It's okay." She looks down to her hands as she idly plays with the hem of her black hoodie. "C'mon. I'll walk you to your bike."

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"Is she gone?" I look up after closing the front door to see my sister stood at the bottom of the stairs, a sneer on her face.

"Yes, Alice," I say, not bothering to entertain whatever insults she wants to throw my way as I walk away from her and toward the kitchen.

She's been a bigger nuisance than ever recently. Usually, with Alice being my sister, she'd not show any ill-feelings she may harbour toward me when out in public. Usually, she'd keep it all bottled up until we were in the safety of our home. That's how it's been for as long as I can remember. To Alice, even a small disagreement between the two of us should be kept under wraps while in public.

_Usually_.

But recently? She's not held back at all, no matter the place or company we have. She seems to be even _worse_ around her girlfriends, which is just _great _because she spends _a lot_ of time with the three of them. The rhyme they sung as they passed me and Bella last week was just the beginning of it. It appears that her rule of keeping family business just that, _family_ business, has flown out the window.

I make my way into the kitchen. I'm just about to pour myself a glass of juice when I hear my name drift into the room from the informal dining area that's off the back of the kitchen. I tip-toe over to the doorway and remain hidden while I listen in.

"So far I have seventy-two... no, seventy-_four _people that have RSVP'd." That's my mother's voice.

"Are the Hale's part of that list?" And that's my dad.

"Yes, they are. Top of the list."

"Good."

"And I have spoken to the caterers. They should be arriving while the kids are at school."

"How will we keep Edward away from the house until it's time for the party to start?" _A party? For _me?

"Well, I was _hoping_ that _girl _could be of use. He seems to like it at her house, though I honestly don't know why. I drove past the other day, to have a peak at where our son has been spending so much of his time, and it's ghastly. So... _small _and shabby." I roll my eyes, immediately knowing who my mother is talking about. _Spending so much of his time..._ I've been there _once_ so far, and that was over a week ago!

"Well, dear, what do you expect with the paycheck her mother earns." There's silence, and then my father speaks up again. "So, how do you plan to get Bella's help?"

"Please don't use her nickname around me, Carl. And especially not around her; she'll think we're growing fond of her. Don't want to give her the wrong impression," my mother, for once, admonishes my father. A very rare occurrence, indeed. If I wasn't so pissed off by what she was admonishing him about, I'd be amused. Instead I'm stood here fuming, hands clenched into knuckle-whitening fists.

"How do you plan to get her help, Es?" my father asks, and I can't work out if I'm imagining the way his question sounds tenser this time round.

"Oh, I was just going to casually mention it being a good idea for him to go to _Isabella_'s on Tuesday evening, so he can spend some time with his, dare I say it, _best friend _on his birthday, and then I'll text him in time for the party to start, asking him to come home for some reason or another. I haven't decided what that reason will be yet."

I don't realise I've began walking into the dining room until it's too late. "Edward, I didn't know you were up here. Has Bella gone?" Dad asks, shocked to see me as he turns in my direction. I nod in reply, though my eyes are trained on my mother and how her eyes narrow as my father once again uses Bella's preferred name. "Really? Well, it would have been polite for her to come say goodbye to us." At that, my attention quickly turns to him.

"That's actually my fault," I say, not intending for there to be so much venom in my voice. "I thought it was best to keep her out of your way, seeing as you don't like her enough to invite her to _my _birthday party and all."

My father glares at me, while my mother throws her pen down onto the table. "Oh, Edward! It was meant to be a _surprise_ party! Now everything is ruined!"

"_Now_ it's ruined?" I chuckle humourlessly. "Well, I know how you could fix it. _Invite Bella_." I stare at them both impatiently, watching while they glance at each other.

"Why were you listening in on a private conversation between me and your mother, Edward?"

"If it were meant to be a private conversation, you wouldn't be having it in _here_. You'd be in your office or your bedroom. I was getting a drink and overheard my name. Sorry for being curious." I cross my arms over my chest in a show of confidence... but in reality - as in, within myself - I'm a nervous wreck. I very rarely speak out toward my father. No matter how ridiculous his beliefs and actions can become at times, I have _always _respected him too much to stand against him. But this? With Bella not being invited to _my_ birthday party? It's too much. Too far. Even for him.

I could accept her not being invited to the party they held on Memorial Day. To be honest, I'm _glad _Bella didn't come. It was a few boring hours filled with idle, unimportant chit-chat among snobs and rich folk. She was _l__ucky _to not be there.

But, what I _can't_ accept, is her not being invited to the party they are throwing for me. It wouldn't be the same without her there.

"Edward, son," my father, though angry at my little bout of defiance, begins in a calm matter. I'm already shaking my head, halting whatever it is he was going to say.

"Don't. This is going to be _my_ party, and I want her here. I want my best friend, and _yes_, I dared to say it," I say pointedly to my mother, "to be here to celebrate my sixteenth birthday with me."

My mother shakes her head now. "Edward, please let us handle this. We've planned _many _parties. Having the Swans here wouldn't be a good idea. Her mother _works _for me."

"Did I say anything about her Mom being here, too?" I question. My mother's mouth twists into a hard line while my father sighs and glances down at the papers on the table. "Well?" I urge them when neither look at me for several seconds.

"Edward, don't push this. I've already sent out invitations, nearly all of which have been answered."

I chuckle humourlessly for a second time, looking to the floor as I shake my head. "Fine. How about this... If you don't invite Bella, then I'm not coming."

"Edward! An ultimatum? You're giving us, your _parents,_ an ultimatum? Don't be ridiculous! Your mother has put a lot of work into arranging this party," my father says as he places his hand over my mother's, who's close to tears. _Oh my God. Seriously?_ "You can't ignore all of her hard work because we won't invite _one_ of your friends."

"She's my _only _friend. The only one that really matters! How could you not think to invite her?" I can't contain my outrage at them both. How could they?

"Because this will be a _sophisticated _celebration, Edward," my mother shouts, suddenly standing from her chair. "The best of Forks will be here."

I belt out a single sharp laugh. This time, it's not completely humourless. "_The best of Forks_?" I laugh again. "You make it sound like they're members of a royal court. This is a small rainy town and a boy's sixteenth _birthday party_, mother. It's not some fancy shindig at the _Whitehouse_!"

"Do not raise your voice to your mother like that, Edward! Show some respect!" I bite my tongue at my father's warning.

"Fine. I'm sorry," I say reluctantly. "But tell me this... are _Alice's_ friends invited?" I wait for an answer, but they both remain silent. My mother stares at me coldly while my father clears his throat, shifting in his seat as he looks down at the table once more. "Are they?" I prompt.

"Yes, Edward, they are. Of course they are. They're some of the b-"

"_The best of Forks_. Yeah, I know," I finish my mother's sentence, rolling my eyes unabashedly. My dad does nothing to reprimand me this time, because he didn't see my eye roll; he hasn't lifted his gaze from the table. "I'm sorry, but I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," I say with finality, crossing my arms.

My mother's mouth hangs open. "Wha-" she begins to protest but is interrupted by my father.

"Es," he says softly as he holds up a hand to her. She's staring at him desperately. He keeps his eyes downcast for another second before he raises his gaze to mine. "Alright. Isabella can come."

"What? Carlisle!" my mother begins to protest, but my father silences her with a further press of his hand in the air. I can't contain my smile.

"She can come," he reiterates. "But she has to be on her best behaviour."

I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. "She's not an animal, Dad." He gives me a stern look, so I quickly apologise. "Sorry." And then I smile again. "Okay, this is great. I'm going to go call her now," I say excitedly, already leaving the room. "Thanks, Dad," I shout over my shoulder as I run through the kitchen, my glass of juice forgotten.

* * *

**A/N: So, he's stood up to them about something. Tell me what you're thinking! I'd love to know!**

**Thanks for reading and I'll be back on Wednesday with Chapter 29. We'll be back to Bella POV's for a little over a week. See you then!**


	29. Chapter 29: 'Tiny white lie' (Bella POV)

**A/N: ****This chapter was initially two separate chapters, split where the first chapter break **(_~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~_)** is, but ending it there didn't feel right. It felt like an imperfect cadence, whereas the place it finishes at _now _feels like a perfect cadence - a little music theory for you there ;). So, I merged the two to create this! I was worried it would be too long, but I feel better knowing this isn't the longest chapter I've uploaded for this story so far (I checked)! Anyway, read and (hopefully) enjoy!**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Twenty-nine: 'Tiny white lie' (Bella POV)

_Tuesday 20 June 2017_

**_Entry: 06/20/17_**  
**_ Happened: 06/19/17_**  
**_ Location: Left wrist and forearm_**  
**_ Injury: Bruising on forearm, close to wrist. Difficulty rotating wrist and flexing hand._**  
**_Asked Renee if I could have my curfew extended for a friend's birthday party, to which she pushed me to the floor. I stayed down while she let her anger out, but in her anger, she flipped the coffee table that was beside me. It landed on my arm, causing the damage._**

I sigh heavily once I finish writing about my newest injury in my log book. Once the wretched thing is closed, I drop my pen, rolling my shoulders before dropping my head backwards. Staring up at my ceiling, I count to ten, reigning in the heavy sadness that's lingering. I always feel this way after having to recall the things my mother does to me. Always. It takes a while to get out of the depressed mood.

Yesterday, all day during school and then work after school and then on my cycle home, I'd been building up the courage to ask Renee if I could stay out passed my curfew for Edward's birthday party. He'd invited me exactly a week ago yesterday, but I've been too nervous to ask her.

When she got home, a little tipsy as is the norm now, I waited until she'd eaten her dinner (I made her favourite in an attempt to butter her up a bit) and then in the front room, once I'd passed her the bottle of wine she'd demanded, I'd inhaled deeply and taken the plunge.

**_FLASHBACK - Monday 12 June 2017 - [Yesterday]_**

_"Could you extend my curfew for tomorrow, please?"_

_My nerves do nothing to help my innocent question sound any better than that. And the way her movements halt at my question doesn't help my nerves._

_Her glass pauses by her mouth, the TV remote elevated in the air. Her head turns to me slowly, and the look in her eyes sends a chill down my spine._

_Renee sets her glass down on the end table beside her, and the remote on the cushion on the other side of her. I notice her hands trembling and without even fully realising it, I already start stepping away from her. I'm ready to flee. My mother, being very intuitive even _when_ under the influence of alcohol, notices my intentions and wraps her hand around my wrist, hauling me toward her. I stumble, but somehow remain upright. She doesn't like that._

_I'm close to her now, so close that I can smell the wine on her breath. It's all I can do not to gip. She inhales deeply, though I know it isn't to reign in her anger as one might think. Her hand tightens infinitely more around my wrist. And then, with an inhumane shriek in the back of her throat, she uses as much strength as she has to yank me to the ground._

_I land on the floor by the coffee table harshly, silently thanking my mother's past old self for deciding to get this floor carpeted. It makes my landing much softer, though it still hurt like a bitch. I lay there, sprawled out across the floor as she begins ranting and screaming, her body bent over me, spittle flying out of her mouth and landing on my skin._

_"How dare you ask me for something so rewarding! You don't deserve rewards, you little shit! Who the fuck do you think you are, coming in here, after I've been at work all day and just want to relax, and asking me for a later curfew?! What have you done to earn that? Hmm? I'll tell you what you've done. _Nothing!_" Her first kick is aimed at my thigh. I cry out, pulling my legs up toward my torso. "Do you hear me? You don't deserve treats, Isabella. _I'll_ tell you when your curfew can be changed." Another kick is sent to my lower back. "Not you. _Me_." And the next hits right between my shoulders._

_That's the last one before I've managed to pull myself up to my hands and knees and start crawling away. I quickly move around the coffee table and collapse to the floor on the opposite side of it. I can't describe the mix of emotions I feel when I see she hasn't followed me round the table. She's remained standing on the other side, seething in her rising anger._

_I should keep my mouth shut, I _know _I should keep my mouth shut, but the words are already leaving my mouth before I've considered them fully. "It's j-just for tomorrow night. I'm not expecting it to be extended _every_ night."_

_"YOU DON'T DESERVE IT AT ALL!" she screams at me. The next things to happen are so unexpected, so sudden, that I have no time to react. I just watch on in stunned stillness. After she screams, she bends to grip the edge of the wooden coffee table between us. Reminding me so much of _The Incredible Hulk _and how his anger provides him with impossible strength, she _somehow _manages to pick her side of the coffee table up and off the floor and hurls it, completely flipping it over... in my direction._

_The way I'm sprawled out, on my side with my left arm stretched out away from me to prop me up a bit, does nothing to help the following events. The table comes to a crash landing, crushing my left arm beneath it. I scream out in pain after a two second delay of shock. My voice is already hoarse with tears, which causes the scream to crack and break in the room around us._

_"You've done _nothing_ to earn a new curfew! _NOTHING!_ What the fuck do you need a late curfew for?!" she asks while I lay on the floor in front of her, pinned underneath the coffee table and in an abundant amount of pain._

_My reply is muffled by tears and sobs. "I only... w-wanted it f-for one... one night. F-for Edward's birthday p-party t-tomorrow."_

_She steps back, a look of confusion crossing her features. "You've been invited?" she asks breathlessly. I nod silently. "To a party?" I nod again. "Edward _Cullen's _party?" I close my eyes as I nod, preparing myself for another wave of angry attacks. But nothing comes, except silence. I open one eye to see her staring at me thoughtfully. I don't think she believes me... and her next question proves that. "Where's your invite? Why haven't you shown me it?"_

_"There wasn't one. H-he called me. Last week."_

_"Why are you lying to me?" she hisses, stepping closer. "You expect me to believe that a family like _theirs_ invites people to an event by _phone_? Really? How stupid do you think I am, Isabella."_

_"I don't! I d-don't think you're stupid. I'm telling the truth. I swear."_

_"Oh, you swear, do you?" she snarls, bending toward me. I flinch and cower into the floor, the pulsing pain in my arm momentarily forgotten while I wait for the next blow. I'm confused, and shocked, however, when she grabs the table and shifts it off of my arm. I quickly pull the limb back in toward my body, silent tears leaking from my eyes at the pain that's racing through my hand and wrist, all the way up to my elbow. "Stand up," she orders._

_I stand._

_She steps up to me, hunching her shoulders so her face is level with mine. "Look me in the eyes and tell me again."_

_"Edward invited me. I sw-..._ promise._ He called me last Monday after I left his house, and asked me if I'd like to go. I c-can call and check if you don't believe me."_

_"No no. That's not necessary. I believe you." She steps back and I breathe out the tiniest sigh of relief. She looks pensive, before a smile breaks out onto her face. "This is wonderful. You've been _invited_ to a party. A _Cullen_ party! Of course you can have your curfew extended. In fact, tomorrow, you have no curfew! Stay out as late as you'd like."_

_I stand, mouth partially open, while I try and determine whether she is being serious or not. Sometimes, sarcasm from Renee isn't exactly clear, and can often be misinterpreted for truth. I should know._

_"Really?" I ask cautiously._

_She nods. "Yes. Do you have something to wear? You'll have to wear your best dress. Wait, do you even _have_ any dresses? Most of the time I think I've raised a son with some of the things you wear. Maybe you should borrow something of mine... It's too late to order anything new. It won't arrive in time. Oh, for goodness sake, Isabella. Why didn't you ask me sooner? This should have all been sorted a week ago, when Edward asked you."_

_My mouth is no longer _partially_ open. It's now _gaping_ open. When has Renee ever been this _calm_? She's acting so... _normal_. _

_"I-I already have a dress," I say, stopping her never-ending onslaught of words._

_"You do?"_

_I nod. "I bought a new one last week."_

_"Oh, really? And how did you know I'd allow you to go? You hadn't asked me yet." She crosses her arms._

_"I d-didn't. I was just being prepared. Taking precautions."_

_"Good. It looks like you _can_ do something right. For once." She smiles again, lowering her arms. I feel like wiping the sweat off my brow in relief. _Phew_. That was a close one. For a moment there I thought I'd be gaining more than a damaged arm. "Well, I'll have to see this dress. To make sure it's suitable. We can't have you embarrassing us with your poor taste in clothing. You stay here, sort out this," she says, gesturing to the out of place coffee table, "and I'll go have a look. Which is it?"_

_"You'll know it when you see it."_

**_End of flashback_**

Thinking back, I probably should have begun with a different opener. Gone with a different approach. Maybe telling her from the get-go _why_ I wanted my curfew extending would have been a better idea. Maybe then she wouldn't have flipped out... and flipped the table.

She left me, with a throbbing wrist and aching back, to rearrange the room back to its original state. She approved of the dress, saying it was perfect and nothing like me... which in her opinion makes it _even more _perfect.

I look down at my wrist, which I've wrapped in a bandage for today. This will now ruin my outfit for tonight, but I know my mother will have no complaints. She'd rather I wrap it up and hide the evidence than let the world see what she did to me. Even if she knows I'd come up with an excuse.

I pick up my log book, pen and the new Polaroid photos that I'm about to add to my collection. I took them yesterday evening, once I knew my mother was out for the night, snoring away in her room. I took one of the outside and inside of my wrist. There's luckily no evidence of her kicks on my thigh or lower back. I used the mirror in the bathroom to take a picture of the mark in between my shoulder blades, from her third and final kick. _That one's surprisingly not so bad_, I think as I look down at the photo. There's a dusting of redness, which I know will get darker over the next few days, but for tonight it should be fine. I'll just wear my hair down.

Before I can even _think _about getting ready, however, I first have a day of school to get through. It's the last week of my Sophomore year. I did my end of year tests over the last two weeks, and this week I'll be finding out how I did in maths, and finding out how much the tutoring has paid off. I know we haven't been doing it for long, but I'm already seeing much improvement in the subjects we've worked on. Hopefully, if we continue with the progress I _think_ we're making, I won't need a tutor for much of my Junior year.

After getting ready - not showering, because I'll do that before the party - I head down stairs for a quick breakfast. My plan is to just get a piece of fruit and be on my way, but I'm drawn in the opposite direction of the fruit bowl, to the toaster, where a bright yellow sticky note is. I pull it off and read:

_**Isabella, behave tonight. Make sure you get in some good words to Mrs Cullen about me. Don't fuck this up for us.**_

I guess she doesn't plan on seeing me before the party. I scrunch up the note, chuck it in the bin, and grab an apple. I'm two feet from the door when a car horn beeps from outside. I quickly open the door, and my mouth drops open when I see who it is.

"Need a ride?" he calls from the side of the road, popping his head of bronze hair out of the car.

"Wha-? H...?" I search for words as I slowly walk down the porch steps after rushing to lock the door. As I get closer, and Edward steps out of the car, I finally find something to say. "W... when? I didn't think your final driving test was until next week, like mine?" That's what he'd told me anyway.

"Yeah, well, that may have been a tiny white lie," he says, holding his fore finger and thumb barely apart in front of his face. "I knew I'd be getting a car and wanted to surprise you. I had my test last week. Passed with flying colours, I did! My parents asked me to pick a car not too long ago, which is what they did before Alice's sixteenth birthday, too. What do you think?"

I step back to look at the grey sedan. That's all I know about it, that's it's a sedan... and it's grey. Edward stands beside me, waiting patiently for a reaction. Any kind of reaction. "It's... nice."

His face falls at my reaction. "_Nice_?"

I laugh at his perplexed expression. "Sorry, Edward. I just don't know cars. _Books_? Of course. _Authors_? Goes without saying. _Movie directors_? I'm alright. Heck, even _sportsmen_ I know of to some extent. But motor vehicles...?" I let that hang in the air. "I'm clueless." I shrug.

"_Wellll_," he begins, sidling up to my side and looping his arm through mine, "let me clue you in. This is this year's BMW 530i. It's equipped with a turbocharged 2.0-liter four-cylinder engine that-"

"Woah, Edward. You've lost me already. I know all I have to. It's a BMW 35i-"

"_530_i, Bella," he corrects, looking down at me. Whatever expression I have on my face - one that shows my dismay at him once again correcting me, I'm sure - makes him laugh boisterously. "Fine, we'll stop talking cars. Do you wanna lift?"

_What kind of question is that?_ "Oh, no. I'm okay, thank you," I answer, waving him off. He grabs my hand and starts dragging me round to the passenger side. "What are you doing? I said no," I protest with no real conviction, a smile on my face. "I'd much rather ride my bike to school than sit back and relax in your brand new, comfy BMW... 5...30i?"

"Get in the car, Bella," he says as he opens the door, also grinning.

"Well? Did I at least get it right?"

He chuckles, nodding his head. "In," he orders, pointing into the car.

"Alright, alright. Damn, you're a bossy sixteen year old." I start to climb into the car, but stop with one leg in, one leg out. He lifts a brow, his hand on the door while he waits with a barely submerged smirk. "Happy birthday, Edward," I say. My smirk has been replaced with a soft smile, and I quickly climb back out of the car to kiss his cheek before I get back in.

_Wow!_ I wasn't wrong; it _is _comfy! I could get used to this.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"How's your wrist?" Edward asks me on our drive back to my house after school. I look down at my bandaged joint and shrug.

"It's okay. I'll take some more pain meds soon."

"Does that mean you won't be drinking any booze at my party? Seeing as you're taking medication?"

My head whips to the side to face him. His eyes barely jump to me. You can tell he's a newbie driver; he is taking every known precaution... and also driving _under _the speed limit, which is already low due to most streets in Forks being residential areas. "There's going to be alcohol? Won't most people attending be underage?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, but it's a party. There's got to be _some_ alcohol. Don't worry. It's limited to anyone underage, and my parents have informed everyone on the invites that alcohol will be available, if parents wish to allow their teens to have some."

I think about that for a few seconds... and then I think about my mother. "Okay. But you were right. I _won't _be having anything to drink."

"Okay." A peaceful silence fills the car for the remaining time it takes to reach my house, which isn't long at all.

"So, what kind of party will it be? Do you know?"

"What do you mean?" Edward asks as he parks the car in my drive. Renee won't be home for a while yet, and based on the note she left me this morning, we will be gone before she gets back.

"Will it be like a house party? You know, bass heavy music, people crammed into rooms dancing? Or will it be more of a dinner party?"

"I don't know all the details. My parents aren't even happy that I know _at all._ But from what I've overheard and from the little they've told me, it'll be held in our back yard. There's going to be a served dinner. Three courses, I think. I don't think there's a theme." He thinks some more. "That's pretty much all I know. My mother used the word _sophisticated_," Edward says with an eye roll.

He accidently found out about his birthday party. His parents know that he knows, but they've still been pretty secretive about it all, which is why he's getting ready here instead of at his house. So he doesn't see any of the preparations.

"Okay," I reply before climbing out of his car. I go to unlock the front door while he gets his belongings out of the trunk.

He meets me in the kitchen, garment bag and small duffel bag in hand. "How long do you need to get ready?" I ask him, pouring us both a glass of water.

"Um... thirty minutes?" he guesses. I look at the time on my phone.

"We have three hours before we need to be leaving. What do you wanna do for the next couple hours?"

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

After drying myself off, wrapping my hair in a towel and slipping on my robe, I carefully wrap my purple and swollen wrist in a new bandage. The material has been itching my skin all day, but there's been little I could do about it. I'd rather go without wearing a bandage until the last possible moment, but with Edward here, I need to keep it covered. Even though he knows about the injury, I'd rather he not see just how bad the injury is.

On our way to school this morning, Edward had noticed the bandage and demanded to know what was wrong, even when I repeatedly told him it was nothing to worry about. In all honesty, I was quickly going over my story one more time in my head. After the fourth deflected version of the question "Bella, what's happened to your arm?", I finally told him my fabricated version of events: that, after work yesterday, I was leaving through the back door to go to my bike and the door closed on my arm. It's a feasible explanation; the back door at the book shop is _extremely _heavy. And it swings shut with _much_ force. Edward knows this, luckily, which helped him believe my story.

Though my attempts to get out of explaining _at all_ were major failures, I _did _manage to successfully dodge his demands to see underneath the bandage. I didn't realise until today just how irritatingly stubborn Edward can be. I've seen glimpses of it before, when he began trying to start up conversations with me after he first joined Forks High. He was persistent then, but _today_? He was on a whole other level! He reminded me of one of those dogs from the videos where they try to walk through a door while holding a long stick in their mouths. No matter how many times they fail to fit through the doorway, they keep trying. He is one persistent pain in the ass when he wants to be!

I exit the bathroom, entering my room to see Edward looking at the few pictures I have sat on my dresser. My eyes quickly skip to the pin board above my desk, where my chore chart has been for years. Before I left the house this morning, at the last minute I thought to hide it away in my nightstand drawer. I'm lucky he didn't notice it the first time he was here. I'm sure my stubborn friend would have had some questions, had he saw it. I return my attention to him just as he turns to me, a smile on his face. "How old were you in this one?" he asks, turning back to the photos. I take a deep breath and walk toward him. The photo he's pointing at is of me and my dad on a beach in the neighbouring Quilette town called LaPush. I smile at the photo, despite the melancholy that washes over me.

"Three, I think," I answer in a hushed voice, staring at the photo. It's of me, sat on a throne made of sand. My dad and a friend of his that lived in LaPush had made it for me. I don't remember the day, obviously, being only barely three years old. But I've heard the stories. My dad is knelt beside me in the photo, smiling widely as he held a bucket full of sand in the air above my head. Little did I know during the moment this photo was taken, but he was just about to give me "a crown fit for a sand princess". I was all smiles, oblivious to his plan. The very second after this photo was taken, I was showered in sand. According to my dad, in all his wonderfully vivid storytelling, I jumped up from my throne shrieking while, on one knee and in a fit of laughter, he bowed and said _"you're welcome, your majesty"._

"You were adorable. Look, you had more freckles then," Edward says with a chuckle, leaning closer to the picture. His words remind me of what he said the last time he was here, about my freckles being included in my beautifulness. I hate my tendency to blush in that moment, when it heats my cheeks at the memory. His words that day were so unexpected... and they affected me more than I'd like to admit. So did the way he glanced down at my lips after saying them. Needing to change the suddenly charged atmosphere - at least it suddenly seems that way to me - I clear my throat, pulling my robe shut tighter when he turns at the sound and looks down at me.

"The shower is free now. We have forty-five minutes." Edward nods, going to collect his things from their place on my bed. "Do you need anything? A towel?"

He shakes his head, and after assuring me that he'll knock to make sure I'm decent when he's ready to come back in, he leaves my bedroom to go and begin getting ready.

Wanting to be certain I'm decent by the time Edward returns, I firstly moisturise my body. After getting all that I need together, I put my underwear and dress on, and then slip my robe back on.

I release my hair from the towel and blow-dry it. Using the large mirror I've borrowed from Renee's bedroom, which I sit on my desk, leant up against the wall, I start doing my hair. I planned all that I wanted to do earlier, knowing that Edward would be here and not wanting to fit the stereotype of "girls take forever to get ready" by spending _hours_ trying to make decisions. It doesn't take me long to lightly curl my hair using straighteners, before I pin it up into a half-up half-down style.

I'm just sliding the last pin into place when Edward knocks on my door. After I call for him to enter, he walks in, totally unfazed by the fact that he only has a towel wrapped around his waist. I, on the other hand, blush the darkest shade of red to have ever filled my cheeks. I am utterly flustered, not knowing what to do. Should I just not say anything and continue getting ready, or should I ask him what the hell he's doing and why he didn't get dressed in the bathroom?

While my mind tries to decide, my eyes can't seem to move away from his bare chest, and then, when he turns, they can't part from the way the muscles in the top of his back move as he dries his hair with another towel.

I've never thought about what Edward may look like with no shirt on. I'd just assumed all boys our age were still growing into themselves, not really gaining any muscle mass like a fully grown man. Edward, although not bulky, absolutely has some muscle definition. I recall him telling me about playing basketball in his old school, so maybe that's why.

"Sorry," he says quickly, turning back to me. I glance up at his face, which appears confused as he looks around my room. The sheepish look that breifly interrupts his confused expression helps me decide not to say anything on the matter of him entering my room barely decent. His face lights up and he walks toward my closet. "Forgot this," he says as he takes his garment bag off of the hook I'd placed it on earlier. How had I not realised he'd left that in here? He sends me an apologetic smile before hurriedly leaving my room, closing the door loudly in his haste. I jump at the noise, quickly swivelling back round to face my reflection. My cheeks are blazing. _My God... what is wrong with me?_

I fan my face with my right hand, trying to cool it down before I begin the task of applying makeup. In my attempt to be extra prepared and save time, I even watched a makeup tutorial on YouTube (something I _never_ do). I keep it simple, starting with applying my usual cover up under my eyes and over my freckles. I pause after that, ponder my reflection for a second, before grabbing a wipe and removing all that hides my freckles. Edward says they're beautiful, so why hide them? I used to love them too, because they were something that I shared with my dad. But once he passed, Renee confessed to me how much she hated them. She said that they were ugly and sickening to look at. I've been concealing them ever since. Tonight is the first time since then that I'll leave the house with them on show. It's Edward's birthday, and he likes them, so why not?

I do apply a light bit of blusher to my cheeks, and then some mascara and a bit of mild gold eyeshadow. I put some light pink lip gloss on before sitting back to assess my work. _Not too bad._

I glance at the time on my phone. We should be leaving soon - preferably within the next five minutes. I pack up my make up and unplug my phone from the charger before tidying up a bit.

I'm sat on the edge of my bed, bent down, tying the laces of my all white Converse high tops, when I hear a knock. "Yeah," I shout, concentrating extra hard on my laces thanks to my bummed wrist.

"You almost ready?" he asks as I sit up. He carries his clothes bag, his holdor and a plastic bag as he walks toward me. I look him up and down, taking in his navy dress shirt and black suit pants.

I nod and stand. "Wow, your parents seriously weren't kidding when they said _sophisticated,_" I say, now looking at his polished black shoes. He looks down at himself with a miserable expression on his face.

"Yeah, I know. It sucks. I had specific orders to dress smartly. I'm surprised my mom didn't make me wear a tie and suit jacket, too."

"It doesn't suck. You look great."

"Thanks."

I untie my robe and shrug it off, turning to drape it over my bed. When I turn back to face Edward again, I instantly feel nervous. He stares at my dress, then my shoes, then my dress, then my face, and back again, repeating the cycle. "What? Is something wrong? Should I change?"

"N-no," Edward stutters, reaching up to weave his fingers into his hair. He pulls at the bronze strands, messing up his apparent attempt at taming the wild locks. "You look... amazing, Bella. Perfect."

"Oh." I sound as shocked as I feel. "Thank you," I say quietly, willing the heat away from my face. This is a harder feat to accomplish as Edward is _still _staring, his focus more on the dress than anything else. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, nervously smoothing my hands down my dress.

"I've just never seen you wear something so... _bright_?"

I giggle, looking down at my dress. He's right. I haven't worn something this bright in years. It's difference to my usual clothing is why my mother needed no explanation when she came looking for it. As soon as she saw it hanging in my wardrobe, she instantly knew this was what I'd bought for the party.

I went to _'Tanner's Charity Shop' _one day last week after work to find something specifically for tonight. I was nervous, not sure what to wear. I knew that most of Forks High will be in attendance - well, the ones deemed worthy by the Cullen family. For some reason, as soon as I saw this dress, thoughts of shutting up the haters of my usual dress sense flooded my mind and I knew I _had_ to have it. I felt like a normal teenage girl in that moment. They, and by that I mean the ones that fancy themselves as _normal _teenagers (as well as the fashion police), would all agree when I say that it is a _beautiful _dress.

It has a fully floral lace pattern that covers the entire dress, from the top of the straps to the hem of the full skirt. It's knee-length and has a belt wrapped around the high-waist with a bow tied slightly off center. It's fortunately not too low at the back, with a zip that runs to _just_ above the bruise that's in between my shoulder blades. It's also yellow.

_Completely _yellow.

I love it even _more_ because I feel a little like Belle from my favourite fairytale. It helps that we have similar names. And both love books.

"Yes, it's bright. It's my first time invited to a party in years, so I thought why not make the most of this occasion and have another first by wearing a brightly coloured dress? _Ooh!_ And check this out..." I pick up my phone and make a big point of sliding it into the hidden pocket at the seam of the dress. "See? It's _sophisticated _\- well, as sophisticated as you're going to get for nine bucks - and bright _and_ it's multi-useful," I say, grinning up at him.

"Very cool," Edward says, grinning back at me. "Also, the Converse with the dress is a nice touch."

"Why thank you," I say, before I glance down at my shoes and shrug. "Gotta piss off the devil-duo somehow." At that, Edward laughs.

"Right. Come on, birthday boy. We've got a party to get to."

"Wait, before we go, do you wanna take a picture with me?" Nerves are in his voice as he asks me this.

"Uuh, sure," I answer, not really understanding his hesitance. He puts down his things and fishes his phone out of his pocket. I remember at the last second to take off the chain that holds my secret key, but I leave my locket on. The key was thankfully hidden beneath the bust of my dress; all Edward could see was the chain, which he's laid eyes on dozens of times before. The only other piece of jewellery I have on for tonight is a pair of sunflower earrings I've owned for a while. They're my only pair of yellow earrings. I keep the chain and key tucked securely in my palm while Edward stands beside me, holding me to his side with an arm wrapped around my waist as we smile into his phone's selfie camera.

Once it's taken I quickly turn to place the chained key into the nightstand draw beside me, trying very hard to do so inconspicuously, so Edward doesn't see what I'm trying to hide. When I turn back to him, however, I see that he hasn't noticed anything that I've just been doing. He's too busy on what I'm pretty sure is Facebook, creating a post with the picture he just took of us. "Uuum, what are you doing?" I ask, leaning forward to see his phone screen better. It's a good photo, though I don't know how I feel about it being posted online.

"Posting my first image as a sixteen year old," he says with a grin, before his face falls and his nerves from only moments ago return. "Is that okay with you? Sorry, I should've asked first." I remain silent for a second, staring at his phone while I quickly think it over. _Should I say yes? What harm could it do?_ I sigh. It's not his fault I hate social media.

"Okay. If you want to." He smiles and thanks me briefly before quickly finishing off the post.

"Do you have Facebook? I've tried searching for you on there but can't find you."

"That's because I don't have an account," I say, looking down at my shoes.

"Why?"

"Why do I need it? Social media is something for people to stay connected to friends and family. I only have one family member, my mother, and it's not like I've ever had any friends to add, so I've just never bothered having it."

"Well, now you have a friend: _me_! And it's also a place for _making_ friends. I'll help you set up an account someday soon. But right now, we've got to go." He doesn't give me a chance to respond, to protest or agree. He turns to pick up his stuff before heading out of my room, giving me no other option but to simply follow.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

My heart is beating erratically in my chest as we turn into the beginning of the long road that leads to the Cullen's home. There's a barrier in place just ahead of the turning, to help people who have no clue about this road. The Cullens are lucky their driveway is more like a parking lot because there are _many_ vehicles making their way down the road or already parked. People pay us no mind at all as we drive straight pass them. A path has been left for Edward, who drives his car right into the garage. The sound of the garage door closing behind us makes me turn in my seat. "What the-" I stop mid-question when I turn back to Edward to see he's pressing a button on a small remote. "Why are you closing the garage door?"

He puts the remote in a little hidden compartment above the rear view mirror before undoing his seat belt. I follow suit, still awaiting an answer. I'm disappointed as Edward, still silent, climbs out of the car. "Edward!" He closes the door. I go to open mine and follow him but he glares at me through the window, reminding me of what he'd told me this morning, about not getting out before he's opened my door. He was raised with manners, he said. I wait for him to come to my side and open my door. I climb out, clutching my thin loose knit cardigan I've brought with me and Edward's present that I'd grabbed out of my closet on our way out of my room.

"Will you please answer me? Why aren't we joining the rest of the guests out front?"

He sighs. "My mom wants me to make a big entrance. They're keeping up the pretense that it's still a surprise to me for our guests. They're all planning to yell 'surprise'. I don't want to walk in alone and I knew you'd protest to entering the party with me, so I wanted to make sure we were securely closed in before I told you."

"What?" I stop allowing him to lead me toward a door on the far side of the room, halting my steps. "Edward, I'm not going to do that."

"Why? Look, Bella, you know that I hate people staring at me. I'm going to be the center of attention most of the night anyway, but _this_ will be the worst of it. I'll hate it. You always seem so oblivious to the attention at school, and I know it won't be so bad with you there. Please?"

Well, shit. How am I meant to say no to _that_?

"Fine," I grumble, pouting. "But you owe me." _No he doesn't. _Not really.

It _is _his birthday after all.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this 'pre-party' chapter, as I've decided to unofficially call it! I covered quite a bit in this chapter, so let me know how you felt about some, or all, of it? Your thoughts? Any predictions? Next chapter will be up Friday! See you then! **


	30. Chapter 30: 'nosy bastards' (Bella POV)

**A/N: A shorter chapter than the last but still over 4,000 words, so definitely not my shortest so far.**

**As I've told you many times, I'm quite a bit ahead of this chapter in terms of where I'm at in the writing of this story. I think I'm about 10 chapters ahead of this one. Anyway, the reason I've mentioned this _again, _is because I'm up to quite a pivotal part of the story! Of course, I won't tell you what that is (no spoilers!), but I just had to tell _someone_. I've been eager to get to this specific part and now I'm there it's just hard to keep to myself. I hope you guys don't mind hearing about this. I'm still not too close to finishing yet though (I know, it's going to be a long one, but I did warn you in the earlier chapters!), I'll keep you guys posted as I make progress and let you know as soon as I'm done, or almost there at least!**

**Right, I'll shut up now and let you get on with reading what you're really here for! Enjoy!**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_"My mom wants me to make a big entrance. They're keeping up the pretense that it's still a surprise to me for our guests. They're all planning to yell 'surprise'. I don't want to walk in alone and I knew you'd protest to entering the party with me, so I wanted to make sure we were securely closed in before I told you."_

_"What?" I stop allowing him to lead me toward a door on the far side of the room, halting my steps. "Edward, I'm not going to do that."_

_"Why? Look, Bella, you know that I hate people staring at me. I'm going to be the center of attention most of the night anyway, but _this _will be the worst of it. I'll hate it. You always seem so oblivious to the attention at school, and I know it won't be so bad with you there. Please?"_

_Well, shit. How am I meant to say no to _that_?_

_"Fine," I grumble, pouting. "But you owe me." _No he doesn't._ Not really._

_It _is_ his birthday after all._

Chapter Thirty: 'nosy bastards' (Bella POV)

_Tuesday 20 June 2017_

"My mommy says I'm not s'pposed to talk to you." I look down at the adorable six year old girl sat at my right, totally unaffected by her words. I _heard_ her mother warn her before the first course was served. To be honest, I expected it.

"It's okay," I say as gently as I can. "I won't bite." The little girl just stares up at me.

"You're pretty," is all she says. I blush lightly.

"Thank you. But I'm not as pretty as you." She grins up at me before turning back to her small plate of food. I look round at the other guests sat at my table, all of whom are between the ages of four and eleven. _That's right._ I've been put on the kids' table.

After Edward dragged me along beside him during his entrance to his birthday party, something I am certain he hadn't confirmed with his parents beforehand - if they're shocked reactions were anything to go by - he was greeted and wished a "happy birthday" by every guest in attendance. Which is _a lot _of people. I've never been to a birthday party with so many guests. Not only are there people I recognise, but there are also members of Edward's family here - both from his mother's and father's side.

I stood off to the side for most of the initial mingling, just silently observing while Edward played the perfect guest of honour, constantly smiling and ever-so-charming. I recieved many strange looks but I took it all in my stride, not appearing fazed at all. Bev and Alan, after wishing the guest of honour a 'happy birthday' themselves, kept me company for a while. I'm glad, because I could see Rose eyeing me up, just gagging on an opportunity to at least throw some _quiet_, snide remark my way. She'd never make a scene at a social event such as this, I'm sure.

Sometime after, Mr and Mrs Cullen announced that dinner would be served soon. Everyone began making their way to the circular tables set out across the lawn, which are surrounding a large temporary dance floor.

The tables are each draped in white table cloths, decorated with candle lit center pieces and tiny pieces of confetti, as well as name plaques, directing each guest to their designated seats. The concentration everyone gave to finding their correct seats allowed Edward a small reprieve, and the chance to come to me. I'd hung back, waiting for the mass of people to spread out before I even tried to locate my table.

Edward hung back, too, saying he'd help me find my seat. It was very clear to me that Edward had absolutely no idea where I'd been placed as he dragged me around all of the main tables first. We passed all the ones I'd been expecting to be main tables - his table with his parents, sister, grandparents and aunt and uncle. The Mayor's table with _his _family and their friends and parents (namely Rosalie's group). A table with more members of the council. A table with some of Mrs Cullen's colleagues, and another few full of hospital staff. I bet Edward doesn't know half of those people; I don't think this party is _entirely _for him, but more of a chance for Mrs Cullen to show off her home and splash some cash.

Edward finally had to duck down beside his father's ear to ask where my seat was. He, in turn, had asked his wife, who then stood and pointed to a table all the way across the other side of the dance floor, farthest from Edward's. I'd blushed when I'd seen it was already occupied by a bunch of children. I could sense Edward was about to kick off, and not wanting him to cause a scene at his own party, I quickly told his parents "thank you" and made my way to the table.

The amount of stares grew as I sat down with the children, which is when my cute little neighbour's not so cute mother had rushed over to whisper her warning - rather loudly - into her daughter's ear.  
That was a course and a half ago. My main is now sat in front of me and I'm already feeling a little full. I can't even force myself to glance over at the buffet spread that's set up on the patio at the back of the house.

In all the times I've visited this house and the meadow beyond the trees, I've never ventured down the steep dip at the side of the house I saw the first time I stumbled across this place. I've never taken the risk. As expected, it's just as magnificent as the rest of the land. The back yard is humongous, and could very well be classed as more of a field than a simple back yard. There's a large patio that spans the entire length of the back of the massive house.

From the front of the house, it appears to be a two-floor building. But it's not, and that's crystal clear from the back. The dip at the side reveals a third, lower level to the house, which is hidden underground at the front. At the moment, all the doors and curtains of the bottom floor are shut, but the back yard is clearly accessible from the bottom floor if given the chance. There are also two flights of stairs, one on both of the hexagonal extensions at the corners of the house. They lead to an elevated decking area, which acts as a canopy for a large portion of the patio underneath. The elevated decking area and stairs is where people entered the party from.

For this party, pillared lights have been set up around the garden, illuminating what would otherwise be a barely visible garden right now, thanks to the darkening sky. The lights are mostly set up as a barrier for the tables and general area of the party, caging it all into the brightened center of the garden.

I can't take another bite of the rich food that's been served, my stomach not conditioned to portions quite as big as this. I sit back in my seat, my hands resting on my bloated belly as I look around at all the other guests. Most people aren't eating any more either, I realise, which makes me feel better for leaving some of my food. A few people have already taken to the dance floor, moving to the music that's playing through the large speakers attached to the fence of the decking area above the patio. I crane my neck in an attempt to see Edward, but there are too many tables between us, too many heads and shoulders blocking the way.

I give up, instead watching the younger ones that surround me. They're all _very_ noisy. A set of twins, who can't be any older than five, both wearing matching bow ties and shirts, are sat opposite me. Their hair is blonde, and they have identical green eyes. I watch, entertained as they bicker. What starts out as harmless back and forth between young siblings soon turns into a miniature food fight. However, before it has the chance to get _too _out of hand, a tall woman in a lovely purple floral dress that shows off her small baby bump rushes over. "Boys, please behave. Throw your food into your mouths, not at each other."

That was the wrong thing for the woman, who I'm assuming is their mother, to say, because they immediately both stop, look at each other and then at their plates before they hold food out in front of their faces and start trying - _and failing_ \- to aim each piece into their widely open mouths. I have to cover my mouth to hide my smile. They're too cute to _not_ find funny. Their mother thinks so, too, I can tell, though she tries very hard to keep a stern face... and a stern voice as she chastises them. "Peter and Garret Cullen! Stop playing with your food and eat it properly or we will go home."

I blanch at her words, particularly at what she called them. _They're Cullens?_ I now focus on the woman, who is subtly beautiful with a slim face and strawberry blonde hair that's currently swept into a plait laid over one shoulder. She fusses over both of her sons, trying to clear up some of the mess they've made, completely oblivious to my watchful gaze... _Or so I think._

"It's Isabella, right?" she asks like a ventriloquist, barely moving her lips. Her focus doesn't waiver from the task of wiping some sauce from the left twin's shirt with a napkin. _I don't know which is which._

"Y-yes," I stutter nervously, not really sure I'm ready to deal with a new Cullen. _She's going to hate me, too._ "But I prefer Bella," I tell her honestly.

"Bella then. I can't believe they've stuck you on this table. Especially when it's so clear our birthday boy would much rather you were sat with us." Her words shock me so much that my eyes feel like they literally bug out of my head. She... _what? _I'm momentarily stunned, until I remember a conversation Edward and I had during my first time in his home. He'd told me that day that while his mother was born to a long-lasting-rich family, his father had come from a not so wealthy family. She must be from his father's side - they seem like the ones more likely to accept me - which also makes sense with her last name being Cullen.

"Um..." Still, even though she seems to be friendly, I'm unsure of how to respond. I'm saved, thankfully, by the arrival of a man who holds striking resemblance to Mr Cullen. He's a little taller than this woman who I still don't know the name of, with short blonde hair and comfortingly familiar green eyes.

"Are we behaving over here, boys?" he questions the two twins who are patiently waiting for their mother to be done fussing over them. Both boys turn to the man with wide eyes and nod their heads simultaneously. The man raises an eyebrow, further pressing his question. Garret and Peter slow their nods until they've stopped completely, and then they lower their heads like sad puppies and slowly shake them from side to side. It's all I can do not to giggle aloud at their antics. I can see the woman, who has now straightened and has stood beside the man, is struggling to contain her amusement, too. The man is doing a much better job than the pair of us. "Do you want to go home?" he asks them. At the same time, both of their heads whip up to face the man, who I'm confidently assuming is their father. They shake their heads with much more vigor than before. "Good. Sit nicely and finish your dinner then. As soon as all the vegetables are gone you can leave the table." At that, both boys dig into their meals, using the proper utensils and aiming perfectly for their mouths.

The man now turns to me, as does the woman, who's situated partially behind him. "Isabella-"

"She prefers Bella," the woman corrects him before I can, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course. My bad. _Bella_, it's lovely to finally meet you. I've heard some great things about you over dinner from my nephew and had to come and introduce myself. I'm Markus Cullen, Carlisle's _younger_ and more dashing brother. This lovely woman here is my wife, Gina," he says with a loving smile, guiding the woman to stand beside him. "And I know you've been _forced_ to enjoy the company of our _well-behaved _sons, Garret and Peter." Wow. It seems Markus' opinion of where I've been placed is the same as his wife's. "If my wife doesn't mind," he says with a knowing smile and a wink to Gina, "I'd love it if you'd share a dance with me."

My mouth drops open in my speechless moment of uncertainty, as I lean to look behind the couple, at the dance floor. Many more people have joined the few that were on there a while ago. It's currently a song suitable for casual swaying, which is what most of the couples on the dance floor are doing. "I don't dance very well," I admit, my hands bunching up in the material of my dress underneath the table.

"Don't worry. Neither do I. I'm definitely no Lem Goodman. Just one dance?" I consider it for a second more before nodding and standing, offering the now smiling couple a nervous smile of my own.

Markus kisses Gina's cheek and gives his sons an _I'm-watching-you _look, before leading me to the dance floor with a hand to my back. I glance around nervously, noticing all the stares we are receiving. In my usual habit, I lower my head and watch my Converse clad feet as we walk toward the dance floor. "Don't pay them no mind. They're all just a bunch of nosy bastards." A shocked laugh bubbles from my chest and I quickly blush, covering my mouth. I hear Markus chuckle from beside me.

Once on the dance floor, I'm clueless. Despite his claims at not being very good, he seems to know more than I do as he picks up my right hand and places his on my waist, leaving me to rest my bandaged wrist on his shoulder. I knew as soon as he asked me to dance that it was a ploy to talk to me, and his remark back at the table clued me in on what he was likely to mention, so I'm not at all shocked when he begins speaking no more than ten seconds into our gentle swaying.

"I apologise on behalf of my brother and sister-in-law, Bella. What they did to you tonight wasn't very... hosty."

"_Hosty_?" I repeat, unable to keep the mirth out of my voice.

"I couldn't think of a better word for it," he says with a smirk that very closely resembles Edward's. "I'll be sure to have words with Carlisle about his mistreatment of you." I sober up from my amusement at that.

I rapidly shake my head, rushing to change his mind. "No. No, please don't do that. There's really no need. I was fine sat over there."

Markus casually cocks his head, a disbelieving expression on his face. "I don't believe that. I'm sure you'd have preferred to be seated beside one of your friends." I stay silent, lowering my eyes to the chin of this man who is practically a stranger to me. "Sat by Edward?" he presses. My eyes jump back up to his but I still remain silent. Markus sighs. "Edward was right. You _can _be stubborn."

My mouth hangs open. _I'm _the stubborn one? _Why that little..._

Keeping in time with our slow swaying, I search for Edward, easily spotting him not too far from the dance floor. He's focused intently on his uncle and me, even as his mother tries to engage him in a conversation. I narrow my eyes at him, causing him to mouth "what?", before I turn back to Markus.

"He's one to talk," I grumble, my eyes still narrowed. Markus throws his head back as he barks out a loud laugh. My angered expression changes to one of confusion.

Markus is still chuckling lightly as he says, "Edward was also right about you being a fiery little thing." I blush, and Edward's uncle chuckles some more.

"What? It's true. He can be just as stubborn as me," I defend, frowning.

"Oh, I know," Markus says. "He'd been arguing your case to his parents all through the appetiser. I had to stop him, however, when I could see my sister-in-law was about to snap, so I asked Edward to tell us some more about you. I'll tell you this, Bella, that nephew of mine is smitten."

I blush, my eyes growing wide as I stumble slightly. Markus does well to keep me balanced. I avoid eye contact with him as I struggle for a response. "I-I'm... He doesn't... No, he..." I sigh loudly. "We're just friends. Really good friends. No more than that."

"We'll see."

Before I can insist to this man that he's very wrong, that his nephew couldn't like me in _that_ way, the nephew in question interrupts. "What are you telling my friend, Uncle Markus?" I arch a brow at Markus, giving him a look that says "_See? Friends_", before we both stop dancing and face Edward.

"Nothing bad, Edward. I assure you," he chuckles, clapping Edward on the shoulder. My _friend _doesn't look very convinced. "I better go see if my Gina needs any help with our _trying_ sons. Would you take over for me here, Edward? Can't leave a lady alone on a dance floor." I blush, startled at his request, but Edward doesn't seem affected by it. He just nods and smiles. Markus turns to me, picking up my good hand. "It was lovely to meet you, Bella. Thank you for the dance." I nod silently, and after kissing the back of my hand, he walks away. Edward quickly mirrors his Uncle's stance, holding my hand in his while the other sits on my waist. I keep my eyes locked on his collar, my nerves returning.

"Are you okay?" he asks after thirty seconds, and I finally look up and meet his eyes. I nod, offering him a tight smile. "I am _so_ sorry, Bella. I could kill my parents for what they've done tonight. I didn't know they'd put you on that table, I swear." My smile this time is more natural.

"It's okay, Edward. I really didn't mind. Your cousins were a _delight_ to sit with," I say, smirking. He chuckles but still looks a little crestfallen. "Edward, come on. Cheer up. It's your _birthday_." His smile is small. "Have you enjoyed your night so far?" I ask, trying to change the subject. Edward, however, doesn't seem ready to let that happen just yet.

"I would've enjoyed it _more_ if my parents hadn't humiliated you like that."

"Who said anything about me being humiliated?"

"Bella, _please_. You don't have to pretend with me. And you definitely don't have to defend my parents. What they did was _wrong._"

I sigh. "Yes, well, there's no changing it now, is there? Let's just enjoy the rest of your birthday party." We're silent for several seconds, swaying slowly. "I have to say, this is the most sophisticated sixteenth birthday party I've ever seen." That _finally_ earns a genuine smile from Edward, as well as a chuckle.

He looks around at the decorations and party-goers around us. "Yeah, I know. It's definitely more than I'd have had for myself, had I been the one to organise my own birthday party. Though, you'd think it was a _matchmaker _party with the way my mother's been forcing me to speak to some of the girls here. She's even pressing me to ask them to dance!"

I pale and go to step back, but Edward's grip on both my hand and waist tighten just a little, almost impalpably. He cocks his head, his brow furrowing a fraction. "If you have to dance with them, I don't mind," I say, going to pull away again. His attempt to keep me close is a lot stronger this time; his grip around my hand is almost painful, and he slips his hand further round my waist, pulling our bodies closer together.

I can hear the thudding of my heart in my ears.

"Don't," he whispers.

I don't try to pull away again. Edward let's go of my hand, moving his now free hand round to my back so it can join the other. He pulls me closer, so, naturally, I rest my head against his shoulder as I loop my arms loosely around his neck. We simply sway from side to side slowly.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Edward asks quietly. I nod, wordless. "I've been planning an escape." At that I _do_ pull away, but only my head from his shoulder, so I can look at his face. The smirk that's stretched across it makes me question the authenticity of his _"secret"._

"What?" I ask dumbly.

"The cake will be served soon. I heard my mom speaking to one of the catering staff before my Aunt Gina and Uncle Markus left the table. And _after_ the cake, those doors will be opened," he tells me, nodding his head in the direction of the large, currently closed french doors that are behind the long buffet table, which I know lead into the great room on the bottom floor. I know the piano has been pushed to the corner of the room, so it's no longer blocking the doors. We passed through it on our way to his bedroom, which is where we'd hidden while he waited for the text from his parents, telling him to come up and _act surprised_. "And once those doors are open, the wine bar will be, too," he finishes. The way he whispers the last part into my ear, you'd think it was a Top Secret meant only for government ears.

"And you plan to escape _how_?"

"_Wellll_," he begins, drawing out the word, "everyone's focus will be on getting to the bar first for a drink. And my bedroom is only down the hall. I'll slip away and let you in through _that_ door." Now he jolts his head in the direction of the door that's just over his shoulder, in one of the two outer hexagonal extensions of the house. I've seen the exterior door in his bedroom from the inside.

My answering smile matches his. "That, my friend, is an excellent plan."

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Yes. As much as I've enjoyed being at this party, _especially_ as it's for you, nothing beats the peacefulness of minimal company. And by minimal I mean _just_ you and me."

He grins. "I couldn't agree more." And then, in a sudden and totally unexpected move, he grabs my hand like he had it before and spins me away from him, drawing me close and dipping me just as the song ends. _He can dance?_

When he pulls me back I'm flushed but laughing in delight, wondering how in God's name I didn't fall. Edward's grin is brighter than the pillar lights surrounding the party. I can sense eyes on me and glance around, instantly noticing that my senses weren't wrong - they very rarely are. We have _many_ judging eyes on us. I turn back to Edward, my bottom lip caught in the trap of my teeth. He shrugs, not bothered. "Let them stare, the nosy bastards." I laugh aloud at that.

"Do you and your uncle share the same mind?"

* * *

**A/N: So, some more Cullens that are _pleasant _\- it's about time, wouldn't you agree? I loved writing this chapter; its one of the more carefree ones, as I'm sure you all noticed. Next chapter will be up Monday! It'll be a continuation of the party. Let me know what you thought of this one in a review! What are your predictions? I'll be more than happy to know!**


	31. Chapter 31: 'off switch' (Bella POV)

**A/N: I'm back... a day late. Sorry about that! Had a hectic day yesterday and I was half way through editing this then the page refreshed and I lost all the finalising I'd done and just decided to leave it until I could focus. That time didn't come until now. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy and I'll see you at the bottom! **

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Thirty-one : 'off switch' (Bella POV)

_Tuesday 20 June 2017_

"Finally!" Edward groans, falling back onto his bed as soon as he's let me into his room and locked the door behind me. The curtains are all drawn. I have never realised how dark Edward's room is until just now. The way it's decorated, with the dark brown walls, dark brown bedding, dark brown curtains, all mean that if it weren't for the light hanging from the ceiling, and the bright pops of yellow furniture around the room, we'd be surrounded in darkness right now.

I go to his desk, leaning back against it. He picks himself up a bit, propping his weight onto his elbow while he remains strewn out across the bed. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful - after all, it is a party for _me_ \- but can I just say how glad I am to be locked in here right now?"

I laugh, pulling his desk chair out to sit down. "You can. I understand. All the attention can be... _exhausting._" Edward groans again, flopping back down.

"Too right!" He stares up at the cieling while I stare at him. "We'll only be able to stay in here for a little while. My parents will work out that we've snuck away eventually and come looking for us."

I shrug, though he doesn't see the action. "That's okay. This little reprieve is perfect no matter the length of time."

We are both silent for the next few minutes, just enjoying the _almost _peaceful silence. There's still the hum of the party acting as background noise for us.

"Oh!" I say loudly when I remember something important, accidently startling Edward. I offer him a sheepish smile before going to my jacket that he'd put away in his wardrobe while we'd hidden out in here. Underneath it is his present from me. I didn't want to put it on the large table of presents that's upstairs, wanting to give this to him in private. Now seems like better a time than any.

I walk back out, going over to the bed. I kneel on the edge as I hold out the wrapped present to him, my hand shaking. "You got me a present?" he asks, shocked, as he quickly sits up. He takes it from me eagerly. "You didn't have to."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's your birthday."

He leans forward to hug me. "Thank you."

"Hey," I say, chuckling nervously as I push him away. "Don't thank me yet. You need to open it first. You may not even like it."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't _you _be ridiculous," he says before tearing into the present. My palms go clammy, the bandage around my wrist mixed with the sweat causing my hand to itch. _What if he doesn't like it?_ Shit! That was a stupid thing to get him.

I start talking nervously, rapidly, all while Edward stares down at the opened present, an unfathomable look on his face. "If you don't like it, then I'll get you something else. I still have the returns packaging. I just thought it'd be good for you to have. You know, so you don't have all those loose sheets of paper to keep track of. Now, with this, you won't risk losing any of your compositions. And-" I'm cut off by the force of Edward's body hitting mine. I very nearly topple backwards off the bed, but somehow manage to stay upright. His arms, which are tightly wound around my shoulders, are beginning to cut my air supply off. "Edward," I wheeze, "you're... crushing...me..."

He quickly pulls back. "Fuck, sorry, Bella." Now it's _his _turn to offer _me _a sheepish smile. "I'm just so... this is the perfect gift. Thank you so much."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're right. I _do _face the risk of losing my music with how I store it at the moment. It's mostly shoved into my nightstand drawer and I also have a few pieces in my desk drawer and over on a shelf in my closet. There's really no order or organisation. _Now_, I can keep it all in one place! This... I'm... You couldn't have gotten me a more perfect present if you'd tried."

I literally sag in relief. "Good. That's great. I'm glad you like it. And look at this!" I say, transforming from no longer nervous but relieved, to excited as I take the successfully recieved gift from Edward's hands. I open up the gorgeous brown leatherbound composition book, and flip all the way to the back. "There's also a pocket so you can store some of the loose sheets in here with all of your music. It's really great. I may have to get myself one."

"Why? You don't write music." I freeze at Edward's casually offhand remark, blushing deeply. _Shit_. I hadn't even realised my slip up. "Do you?" _Fuck_! I say nothing. "Bella. Do you?" Edward ducks his head to try and meet my eyes.

"Pfft. _No_," I scoff, handing the book back to him. "Of course I don't." My reply is hasty as I turn and jump off the bed. Edward is quick to follow me.

"Why would you say that you want one then?"

"I didn't mean it like _that_."

"How else could you mean it?"

"I don't know. But what I _do_ know is I have no need for one of those books."

"Stop lying."

"I'm not lying.

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not. It's the truth. I don't write music."

"Then why would you need a composition book?"

"I don't."

"But you said-"

"My God, Edward! Where's your off switch? How you could tell your uncle that _I'm _stubborn is beyond me! You're like a dog with a bone. You _never stop_." My hands are clenched at my sides, which is excruciating for my bad arm. My breathing is heavy and I know my face is bright red - not from embarrassment as usual, but from anger this time.

Edward freezes, stunned for only a beat of a second before he erupts into laughter. "Oh, Bella. You're too much sometimes, you really are," he laughs, wiping a single hysterical tear from the corner of his eye. His amusement breaks through my anger and I have to battle immensely with myself to not break out into smiles. "My _off switch_?" he repeats through his laughter. His laughter is infectious and I lose the battle, smiling toothily. Soon I'm laughing too, even if it _is _at my expense.

It takes us all of the rest of our time hiding away in his bedroom to calm down. Once we have control of ourselves, he says we should head back outside. I have another battle with myself, this time to not sulk, as we walk toward the exterior door of his bedroom.

We seem to mutually agree on the count to five, both of us obviously needing to prepare, before he unlocks and opens the glass paned door, which has been covered by a floor to cieling curtain while we've been in here. I'm glad we did, because it gave me the chance to plaster a smile on my face... something that would have been very hard to do naturally had we opened the door _without _the mini preparation and walked right into the firing line - the ammunition being sharp stares from many of the other guests that have already moved back outside. I sigh under my breath and glance at Edward, who's smile is also fake, I can tell. I hate that he can't relax at his own birthday party.

_At least he's forgotten about my stupid slip of the tongue._

"So... _do_ you compose your own songs?" he asks me quietly as we reenter the circle of lights.

_Or not_.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

I'm one of the last few guests still remaining. Many have gone now. Edward's Uncle, Aunt and cousins have just left - all of whom said goodbye to me, too, unlike the rest of the guests. I've noticed Jessica and Lauren have stayed, both girls actually leaving me be all night. So did Rosalie and the rest of the teens attending the party. It's been both shocking and unnerving.

Bev and Al are also still here. Those two appear to have stayed simply to help clean up a bit.

I found out this evening, during the little while I spoke with the lovely older couple, that Al also worked for the Cullens for quite some time in Chicago. He was hired _before _his wife, as their gardener. With his passion for all things green, he really was the perfect man for the job of maintaining the lustrous Cullen's gardens. He only decided to step back from the responsibility when the Cullens announced they were moving. He and Bev, having worked for this family for so long, jumped at the chance to move across the country with them. Especially when they heard it was a small town. Alan has now managed to fulfil his life long dream of owning his own florist, which apparently the Cullens helped fund as a thank you for all the years he and his wife had devoted to them. I was shocked to find out the Cullens could be so generous.

Even though Bev still very much works for the Cullens, and Al will return every now and then to spruce up the maintainable plants surrounding the house, he and Bev have a life away from the Cullens for the first time in many years. They live in the apartment above his florist in the town center.

I begin to help tidy up to, picking up a trash bag as I begin discarding the napkins and paper on the kids table. _It was partially my mess, so it's technically my responsibility._ Edward, however, doesn't agree. He taps on my shoulder, shaking his head as he takes the bag from me once I've turned to him. He gives it to a passing member of the catering staff that are still here, also helping, before he takes my hand and pulls me in the direction of his bedroom door. Mr Cullen is stood by the buffet table, sipping a glass of something golden as he talks with one of the few remaining guests - this one works at the hospital with him, I think. He glances toward his son and I as we pass him, his eyes following us all the way to Edward's room.

Edward locks the door once we're inside. "Guests don't do the cleaning, Bella."

"Bev and Al are guests yet they were helping," I say.

"They..." he sighs. "That's different!"

"How?" I ask, crossing my arms. The twinge my defying action causes in my wrist is sudden, and I can't keep the pain it causes off of my face. Edward strides over to me, taking my arm without permission. He holds it delicately, and begins unwinding the bandage. I quickly pull it away from his grasp, wincing again at the pain. Edward sighs and gently pulls my hand back toward himself, using enough force to take my choice away. "Edward, it's fine. It doesn't even hurt," I lie.

"Tell your face that," he mumbles, distracted by his task of unwrapping the bandaging. I just close my eyes, no longer fighting what is so obviously the inevitable. As soon as the air touches my skin I want to both sigh in relief and itch at it like a madwoman. Edward's sharp gasp has my eyes snapping open to look down at my freshly revealed skin. My eyes widen at the sight.

It's discoloured, a mixture of purple and red. And it's also swollen. _Very _swollen. I have the wrist version of cankles. _Is there a technical name for that? _There are indents from where my bandage has been digging in, running deep into my swollen skin. "Did someone _push_ the door shut?" Edward asks, still in a state of shock.

My mouth opens and closes like a fish as I search for an answer. "I told you. It was windy."

Edward doesn't question my reasoning. He's still staring at my injury. "I-I'm going to get my dad," he announces, gently letting my hand go to step away. I reach out with my other hand to fist his shirt. My plan is to beg him not to, but one look at the concern on his face and my hand falls away.

I sit down on the edge of Edward's bed, defeated as he leaves the room. He's gone barely a minute before he returns, with a genuinely concerned looking Mr Cullen hot on his heels. Edward stands off to the side while his dad picks up my hand to inspect it. He hums thoughtfully. He asks me to tell him when I feel any pain before he tries testing my limits, rotating my wrist this way and that, pressing on different areas. Most of what he does causes me pain, some more than others. Rotating is the worst.

"What happened? Edward told me briefly but he was in too much of a panic to make any sense." We both glance over to Edward who blushes lightly, even as he shrugs like it doesn't matter.

"It happened yesterday. A-after work. I was leaving and the wind slammed the d-door shut onto my wrist."

He hums again. "Have you been to the hospital?" I shake my head. I very rarely need to go to the hospital because of one of the injuries my mother causes. There have been a few occasions where it's been unavoidable. Like the first time: I'd made Renee some soup and bread, per her request, and was carrying it through to the front room when I'd tripped on a shoe I hadn't seen that was lying in the middle of the entrance hall. One of _her_ shoes. The soup had gone _everywhere_, and I'd tried to clean it all up, but during the fall I'd twisted my ankle and struggled to weight bare afterward. Surprisingly, at first, Renee had acted the perfectly concerned and caring mother, helping me up and taking me to the hospital. She told them I'd tripped on a shoe that _I_ had left lying around ("you know how careless kids can be", she'd told the doctor), and they sent me away with a bandaged up sprained ankle, and a crutch to use for a few days. As soon as we got home, my mother's attitude changed. It darkened. She went from worried to angry, showing me what she really thought about my "fucking clumsiness" as she snatched the crutch from underneath my arm and began hitting me with it. I was left with bruises covering a majority of my body, and was so glad it was winter so I didn't have to swelter in jeans and long tops at school while those bruises faded.

"Have you told your mother?" is Mr Cullen's next question. Again, I shake my head. At his disapproving look, I quickly try to explain in a way that won't raise any red flags in his mind.

Basically, I come up with an excuse.

"I didn't want to tell _anyone. _Edward only found out because he's so insistent." A hint of anger touches my tone, but I quickly try to back pedal when I remember who I'm talking to. "I mean... I... sorry, I didn't mean to insult y-your son." I ignore Edward's chuckle. "It's just that it's _embarrassing_, you know?" I look down at my lap.

"What is?" Carlisle asks, pulling his grey suit pants up a bit at the knee so he can crouch down comfortably beside my legs.

"Not many people manage to close a door on their own arm! I was embarrassed, so I didn't tell anyone."

"Okay," is all Carlisle says on the matter. "I _would_ like to get an x-ray of your wrist, to be doubly sure, but I'm confident that it's just a minor fracture." _Just_? "Though painful, it should heal up on it's own in about six to eight weeks," - _How long?!_ \- "given the right amount of rest. Try not to overuse this arm for the next few weeks. Don't stop moving it completely, but avoid heavy lifting and things like that. I have a splint you can use, I don't think you'll require a cast. I won't give you a sling, but do try to keep it elevated for the next week or so as much as possible. If you'd like, I can prescribe you some pain medication?" he asks. I'm frozen for a moment, taking in all of the information, before I nod slowly. _I could do with something for this excruciating pain._

"Okay. I'll sort the prescription out for you tomorrow. If the pain or swelling gets worse or you feel faint, nauseous, or you find your fingers or hand going numb at any time, please go to the hospital. I'll make sure to put this on your record." All I can do is nod silently, swept up in the whirlwind of information thrown at me in the last thirty seconds and the efficient, no-nonsense manner in which Mr Cullen relayed that information to me. You can _so _tell he's a good doctor. "Right," he says, slapping his thighs as he stands fully. "I'll be back in a minute with that splint."

As promised, he's back soon after he leaves, holding a splint which he helps me put on. He says to leave it a little loose for the next few days, until the swelling goes down, and then I can tighten it. I thank him, thinking that he's going to leave, but he doesn't. He stands by the door, looking at the two of us. He seems kind of nervous, unsure, which is highly strange for someone like Mr Cullen. It's such a drastic difference from how he was just moments ago.

"Is there something you needed, Dad?" Edward asks, also sensing the change in his father's dimina, as he walks over to the end of the bed and sits down beside me. Mr Cullen opens his mouth, thinks, hesitates, allows a lone syllable of "I-" to come out before he closes his mouth, shaking his head. He looks down at his watch, before raising his eyes to us again. I can instantly detect that the nervous few moment he just had, the little lapse in confidence, has passed. "How did you get here, Isabella?"

"I drove her here. Why?" Edward answers for me.

"It's pretty late..." He stops to think for a second. "Would you like me to drive you home, Isabella?"

Again, Edward answers for me. "No, it's fine, Dad. I can drive her home."

"Bella?" Mr Cullen prompts, ignoring Edward. I look between the two, at the two faces that are so similar, only differentiated by age.

"I-I'll be fine walking."

My response is met with a stunned silence, before both father and son break out in a chorus of, "Absolutely not!"

Carlisle is the one to continue, while Edward glares at me from my left. "It's pitch black out there. Not safe for you to be walking all the way home alone. If you don't mind, Edward or I will drive you."

I don't know why he said 'if you don't mind', because it's obvious neither Cullen will allow me to walk home. I just didn't know what else to say. They were both looking at me with the same expecting look, one slightly more desperate than the other, and I caved in on the little voice that was telling me to not burden them both with the task of dropping me off at home. I've walked - or cycled - the route thousands of times before. I wouldn't have gotten lost... though I know that's not what's stopping them from saying yes.

"I'll drive her home, Dad," Edward insists again, while I sit in silent thought. I didn't realise that I hadn't answered Mr Cullen yet. I blush and look back over to him. He tilts his head.

"Is that alright with you?" he asks me. I still can't understand the level of authenticity this man suddenly has toward me. Though I can sense he'd much rather _not_ have to take me home, he's still making sure I'm okay with whatever is arranged. To be honest, this seems to be a big fuss over something so trivial.

I nod silently, offering him my first real smile. His lips pull up at the corners into something that resembles a smile, though it's restrained. "Okay. Well, I hope you enjoyed your evening." I nod and tell him that I did, thank you. Then he turns to Edward. "I want you back home immediately, Edward. No hanging around out there. You have school tomorrow and it's already late enough." I barely catch Edward's responsive nod as I get my phone out of the pocket of my dress to see just how late it is. Mr Cullen repeated that a couple times while in here. I gasp just as the door closes, the man stood in front of it now vacant from the room.

"We better go. It's _really _late," I say, a little panicked, as I stand from the bed. I let myself into the walk-in wardrobe Edward has, to fetch my cardigan.

"It's not _too_ late. Do you really have to go already?" he whines as I exit the wardrobe, carefully sliding my left arm into the sleeve. The sight of the splint has me second guessing whether I thanked Mr Cullen or not. _Shit. Did I?_

"Edward, it's quarter to twelve. And as much as I'd rather stay longer, I can't."

"But you said your mom took away your curfew for tonight." He's still whining.

"I know. But that doesn't mean I can take advantage of it. Please, can you take me home?" My words come across desperate now, but to be quite honest, I don't care. I_ am_ desperate. He doesn't understand how important it is that I get home _right now._

Edward simply stares at me for several seconds, before a slow smirk makes it's way onto his face and he sinks down to the edge of the bed._ Oh, how I want to wipe that smirk off his face right now_. "And what if I don't want to take you home yet?" he asks, crossing his arms. He looks so proud, which only makes me want to wipe that damn smirk off his face even _more_.

I set my shoulders back and stride toward him purposefully. Leaning down, I kiss his cheek like I did this morning, and say, "Happy birthday, Edward," before I turn on my heel and march for his inner bedroom door.

"Hold up," he says, rushing toward me. He spins me around with my right hand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to walk home."

He shakes his head, looking a little panicked. "No you're not."

"Fine, then I'll go find your father and ask _him_ to take me home," I tell him, having absolutely no intentions to do as I say. The proud smirk he had is gone. _HA!_

Edward sighs. "No, don't do that either. I'll take you."

I smile victoriously. "Thank you," I sing as I turn and open his door.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles from behind me, swiping his keys before following me out.

After thanking Mrs Cullen and Mr Cullen together, Edward and I enter the garage and get into his car. He starts the engine, opens the garage door with that awesome little remote he has, and then he backs out into the startlingly empty drive way. _Startlingly - compared to how it was when we arrived._

He turns us round, having enough room to do so now _nearly_ everyone has left. My eyes are drawn to where I know the gap in the trail to what I still consider _my _meadow is. It's too dark to actually see it, but I know it's there, and that's enough to ignite the longing that's forever a dull ache in my chest.

"What are you looking at?" Edward asks, and I look back to him, only just noticing that he has us idling in front of his house. I look back in the direction of my meadow for a minute, contemplating my options here. No one knows about my meadow. _No one_. But for some reason, there's a _strong _part of me that wants Edward to know about it. I've come to trust him very much. It wouldn't hurt to tell _someone _about my place.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. It's no use.

"Do you remember the day we met?" I ask, keeping my face turned away from him. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, anxiously, as I await his reply.

"In the school corridor? Or do you mean the very first day we met?" The curiosity is already heavily influencing his voice.

"The very first," I clarify, turning my focus back to Edward. I expand no more than that. I watch as his eyes dart to the blackness behind my head, and that's when I know for sure that he understands what day I'm referring to. He nods silently, looking back at me. I take another deep breath, turning away again. "I've been coming to this part of town for years."

Silence.

"Why?" he eventually asks, his voice soft in the quiet of the car.

"There's a place hidden in those trees," I say in a much calmer tone of voice than I'd expected, as I raise my hand to point at where I mean.

"What kind of place?" he asks, his curiousity somehow intensified. I look back to his face, back into his emerald eyes that remind me so much of the greeness at my meadow. I search for the kindness and the friendship Edward has so willingly given to me since his arrival in Forks over two months ago. The warmth I see in them solidifies in my mind the decision I think I made sometime before tonight, I just hadn't realised it until now.

"You want me to show you this weekend?"

He looks a little confused, probably at how cryptic and secretive I'm being about this hidden place. How ever confused he may be, it doesn't stop him from nodding eagerly.

"You promise you won't go looking for it before then?" I ask, slightly joking but mostly serious.

"Of course. No. I'll wait," he rushes to reassure me. I silently nod and face forward, waiting for Edward to take me home.

* * *

**A/N: Drop me a review to let me know your opinions! Getting to the next development in their _friendship _soon ;) that's all I'll say on the matter.**

**Though this update is a day late, I won't change my usual schedule. I'll still post tomorrow as planned. Bye for now!**


	32. Chapter 32: 'be prepared' (EPOV)

**A/N: I know, Wednesday is almost over. I'm very nearly late to uploading again. But I've _just _made it!**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Thirty-two: '...be prepared' (Edward POV)

_Wednesday 21 June 2017_

"I thought you were smarter than this, Edward." My mother shakes her head at me, crossing her arms over her chest. I look away from her, away from the disappointment, just to be met with _another _disappointed gaze, belonging to my sister. Alice is sat beside our mother, looking every bit like her younger doppelganger in this moment. My father is sat on the recliner between the couch I'm sat on and the one the women are sat on. He has an ankle pulled up to rest on his knee, and I can't make out his expression. It's not disappointed, but it's not agreeable either. It's neutral, and that makes me quite nervous. What does he think about this ridiculous family meeting?

I'd gotten dressed for school before coming up here to get some breakfast. I wish I had used the garage staircase, because as I was about to pass through the foyer and open family room to the kitchen, I was summoned by my family, who were already sat waiting for me in said family room. There was no way for me to get out of this impromptu family meeting, though I wish there was, because like I've stated already, this is _ridiculous_!

My mother _"thought I was smarter than" _allowing other people, _whom I can't control_, to believe that there is more than friendship between me and Bella Swan. I've been sat here for a full ten minutes now, trying to argue my case. I keep glancing at the clock, and as more time ticks by I grow increasingly unsettled. I planned to pick Bella up again today! Much longer here and I'll have to skip breakfast to get to her on time.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, lifting my shoulders. "I didn't do anything deliberately misleading."

Alice scoffs, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling - both clear signs that she doesn't believe me. She looks to my mother with a look that says _'__can you believe this guy?'_, and then offers Dad the same withered expression before she turns her gaze back to me. "Edward, how can you say that? Of _course_ you did it all deliberately. You may not be the smartest, but you're not _that_ stupid."

My jaw clenches at her blatant insult, but I reign in my anger, simply lifting my shoulders again. "I honestly have no clue what I've done wrong. We've been sat here for over ten minutes now, and none of you have told me what it is I've allegedly done _on purpose _that made people believe Bella and I are more than friends. So, if you'd be so kind, please enlighten me, all knowing and all seeing Alice."

I can tell none of them favour my sarcastic quip I added at the end, but I don't really care. I'm bored and want to know what I've done so I can leave. All they've told me is that I was stupid for doing _something_ that has made people believe Bella and I are dating. They didn't want to question me about it last night, both because it was late and because it was my birthday, but apparently the rumour train was on a roll during my party, with people of every age group wondering what I see in this girl I brought with me, and what her motives could possibly be for being with me. Does she want money? An easy ticket to a good college?

I honestly believe, sometimes, that I'm living in a movie. According to my mother, even _her parents,_ my Grandfather Henry and Grandmother Wendy, had some questions about it all. I'm not at all surprised by that however. They raised her to be the way she is now. I'd love to know what Dad's mother, my Nana Pat, had to say about it all. Her husband passed away before I was born. I may not have known my grandfather, but I am most certain that he would have been every bit as supportive of _anything_ I have done and chosen as my Nana Pat has been. She is very much like my Uncle and Aunt. While she seems to be okay with my mother, she can't stand her daughter-in-law's parents. And they feel exactly the same way, they're just not as good at hiding it.

"Where do I begin, Edward?" Alice says, starting with her grand explanation of the wrong doings I have committed. "For _one_, you entered your birthday party with Bookworm _on your arm_." Okay, so technically that is true. Bella did have her arm hooked over mine as we entered the party. But I don't see how anything is wrong with that. It was done primarily to help with both of our nerves at having _everyone_ staring at us.

I say nothing, not even on the fact that Alice refuses to use Bella's name, allowing Alice to list off the rest, uninterrupted. "You helped her find her seat, which you didn't do for any other guest. You _danced _with her. _To. A. Slow. Song_. And most importantly, you disappeared into your _bedroom _with her. ALONE!"

_Oh._ I see how that last point may have looked to some people. But truly, it was harmless.

I inhale to speak, but Alice isn't done. Her breathing is heavy and at some point during her enraged speech, she stood up from the cushions, pointing her perfectly manicured finger at me. "And don't even get me _started_ on that picture you posted!" _Huh? _Now I'm confused.

"What? What are you talking about? What picture?"

"The one you posted on Facebook, Edward, for _everyone_ to see. Have you even checked the reaction it has gotten?" Alice asks me, her barely contained anger turning her already high pitched voice into a glass-breaker.

Curious now, I pull my phone out of my pocket. When I log into my account, several notifications ping through, mostly posts I've been tagged in from last night. I ignore them all for now, and go to my post from yesterday. I remember what photo Alice is talking about now. It's the one I took of Bella and I.

I stare at it for several seconds. I love this photo. Though, now, as I look at it with the knowledge that it's a reason for people's suspicions, I see how some may have perceived it. We are stood very closely, though that's because my arm is wrapped around her waist - a fact you _can't _physically see in the picture, _and a fact I secretly loved at the time._ Behind us, you can clearly see that we're in Bella's bedroom, mainly because her bed is behind us. Though it's an innocent photo, some may assume otherwise.

I hold in my sigh and scroll to check out it's response. It has some likes, though not many - something I'm assuming is because of Bella's presence in the photo._ I will not dwell on that. _There are almost _triple_ the amount of comments.

The first two are from Kyle and Will, my two closest friends from Chicago. I've been friends with the two of them for most of my life. They'd text to wish me a happy birthday earlier in the day, and were obviously the first to comment because everyone else was here, busy with the beginnings of the celebrations.

**Who's the girl, Edward? She's cute.**

**Edward finally gotten himself a gf? Congrats, man. Call us when u've got a min.**

I smile, pressing 'like' on their comments before I scroll further down.

I don't even register _who_ each individual comment is from after that, all of my focus on the foul messages that have been attached to this photo that I love so much.

**Woah... wtf? When did this happen?**

**R u dating the bitch, Edward?**

**OMG! I can't believe this! SHE has a BOYFRIEND?**

**Hahaha! What a joke! This wont last long. Bets anyone?**

**Do u think she pays him? **\- _[Reply]** Must do. The only reason he'd shag that is for $$$$**_

**Edward, plz say this is a joke!**

**Good luck w the skank, Eddie. Hope shes worth it.**

I only read these first few before I angrily lock my phone, sending the screen into darkness. My jaw is locked so tight I can feel the muscles trembling. My phone is squeezed into my fist so hard I'm at risk of breaking it. I can't possibly articulate how relieved I am that Bella doesn't have an account.

"Well? Do you see how much trouble you've caused for yourself? How much trouble you've caused for _us_?" Alice asks, crossing her arms across her chest. All her movements are surrounded in a red, rage infused glow. "Have you got anything to say for yourself?"

"It's not my fault people are _this_ immature! _This_ pathetic! _This... _this _vile_!" I say through gritted teeth, holding up my phone to indicate what I mean with every 'this' I spit out. Disgusted, and no longer hungry, I push myself off of the couch and stride purposefully for the hallway to the right of the foyer.

"Edward!" my mother shouts from behind me. "We're not done here! Where are you going?"

"To my _girlfriend's_!" I shout snarkily over my shoulder, without stopping, before disappearing further down the hall and into the garage. Taking my keys off of the hook I'd left them on when I got home from dropping Bella off last night, I march to my brand new car, practically throwing myself into the drivers seat once I've unlocked and opened the door.

I have to allow myself a few moments to breathe. I take my time with pressing the button to open the garage door, waiting for it to be fully open before I even _think_ about starting the engine. Some movement to my right alerts me to the fact that I've been followed out here, and without another thought I start my car and back out of the garage.

The sight of my father stood in my now vacant spot in our garage is the last thing I see before I turn and speed down the only road that leads away from our house. I'd never admit it to anyone, but as I'm driving away, tears sting my eyes. Tears of sympathy for my best friend, who doesn't deserve any of what has been said about her.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

I sit outside Bella's house for ten minutes, alone. I haven't honked the horn like I did in my excitement yesterday. I haven't text or called her to let her know I'm here. To be honest, I'm delaying it. I want to see her, like I always do, but a part of me also wishes I could avoid her today. Avoid what I have to do... tell her about the rumours. I know she's no stranger to spiteful lies being told about her, but I now realise that there's a reason she avoids social media. The poor girl is already bullied in person, she doesn't need it in cyber form either. _I'm such an idiot_. I should have realised that!

I'm still sat in my car at the curb in front of her house. My head is dropped forward as I pointlessly torture myself with more of those horrific comments. They only get worse, if that's possible. I definitely won't allow Bella to see the comments. But I _will_ have to tell her. If I don't, then she'll only find out some other way, and it'll be nowhere near as nice as I can do it.

A tap on my window startles me. I jump and look to my left. A confused looking Bella is stood outside my door, her right hand clenching the strap of her bag tightly and her bottom lip ceremoniously stuck beneath her teeth. I try to smile at her, but I don't think I'm very successful. I don't bother getting out of the car, and only gesture to the passenger side with a tilt of my head before I lean across to open the door for her.

She walks around the front of my car, and I watch stalker-like, trying to assess her mood. She seems okay. Nothing out of the ordinary. The wind blows back one side of her long black knitted cardigan, revealing a denim dungaree dress over a grey top. I almost smile at the return of Bella's typical dress-sense after last night's drastically different choice. To be honest, I'm glad to see the dark grungy side again. As beautiful as she looked in the yellow dress, she's not Bella without the darkness she encases herself in.

She folds herself into my car, sighing lightly once the door is closed. She turns to look at me for a few moments, her eyes inquisitive. I glance away nervously, shifting restlessly in my seat.

"Alright. What's up?" she asks on a sigh. I glance over to her hesitantly, my eyebrows lifting high up on my forehead.

"What? Nothing."

_Edward, what are you doing? TELL HER!_

"Don't play the innocent facade with me. Something has gotten you down. If your face was any longer you'd trip on it when you walk."

Internally, I chuckle at her words. But on the outside, my 'long face' remains. "Okay," I say, releasing a tense breath as I close my eyes, stealing myself for Bella's infamous anger. It's bound to make an appearance once she knows that it's _my _fault people have more reason to treat her so horribly. "Y-you know the photo I posted yesterday?" I ask, just diving right in. My eyes lock onto my hands, which are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel - so tightly that my knuckles are turning white.

A quiet "yes" is all she offers. The nervous breath that follows that single syllable response has me feeling even more guilty, if that were possible.

"Well, um, you see, people haven't really, um, reacted to it in a, um, _pleasant_ manner." I fumble over my words, dreading her reaction.

Silence greets my admission. I tentatively turn my head slightly, peaking at Bella out the corner of my eye. She's looking at me. Right at my face. Her expression is unreadable, even to me. "I-I'm sorry," I offer quietly. At that, her eyes well with tears, furthering my already abundant guilt.

"What are they saying?" she asks. The blankness in her tone scares me. Her voice is emotionless. I turn to face her fully, searching her eyes in an attempt to read her emotions the only way I can. That door she has so masterfully locked within her gaze has been cracked. I can see the apprehension, the fear, the anger, the sadness, and the... guilt? Why would she feel guilty?

"Bella, I don't think I should-"

"What. Are. They. Saying?" she asks harshly. I watch as she closes her eyes and inhales deeply, an obvious attempt to calm herself. When she opens those beautiful, but currently tortured, pools of chocolate brown, that door is mended and tightly sealed once more. _No! Not again. Not with _me,_ Bella!_

"Bella, I..." I hesitate, still against telling her the hurtful things they've said.

"Edward, either you tell me, or someone at school will get the pleasure."

She's right. _Shit._ Why does she have to be right? "People assume we're _together_ and it's caused quite the stir."

"Why would people think that?" she asks, shocked beyond belief. I try to ignore the stab of - is that hurt? - _something _I feel in my chest at her disbelieving, touching on disgusted tone of voice. And don't get me started on the way her face has screwed up. Is the thought of it _that _repulsive?

"I don't know," I say on a shrug, turning to face ahead of me, my hands once again gripping the steering wheel like it's a lifeline. "Several reasons apparently."

"Apparently?" Bella urges when I stop.

"Yes. My family told me about all the rumours this morning. _Apparently_ my behaviour with you last night has started rumours. People that were at the party believe we are dating, or at the very least, s-sleeping together." I glance over at her hesitantly. She's blushing, looking down at the hem of her dress.

"I am sorry, Bella."

She looks up at me and to my utter relief, offers me a small smile. "It's not your fault, Edward. Would it have helped if you hadn't posted the photo? Yes." I hang my head. "But," she adds. _But?_ I raise my head hopefully. "If it were anyone else, _not me,_ in that photo with you, none of this would've happened." Her simple, casual shoulder shrug stumps me. All the anger and the sadness she was feeling, all of it has vanished. She's back to being Blasé Bella. Not caring about what others think or say about her.

She's amazing. Like no one I've ever met. She's the strongest person I know.

"Guess I should be prepared for some post-party ridicule then?" she asks as she clicks her seat belt into place. I look at her, still stumped at her change in attitude. I'm awed, too.

"Um," I start the car as I try to piece my staggered thoughts together, "yes. You probably should."

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**A/N: Can't teens be cruel? The suspicions in this chapter lead to something that was planned from the very beginning, something that will be happening soon. I hope you all liked this one! Let me know!**


	33. Chapter 33: '1-Ish' (Bella POV)

**A/N: I'm two days late with this update, I know! So sorry! This won't affect my chapter upload for tomorrow!**

**I'm not American so it completely slipped out of my mind that Thanksgiving was Thursday just gone for a lot of you. I hope you all had a happy thanksgiving.**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Thirty-three: '1-ish?' (Bella POV)

_Friday 23 June 2017_

I sigh as I step into my house, leaning heavily against the door once it's closed behind me. I close my eyes and drop my head back with a thud. I'm so exhausted. It's almost laughable. You'd think I had a full time job and had been at it all week, when in reality, today I've only been to school and then to work for an hour after. My fatigue has me questioning whether I've actually skipped ten years, and I'm no longer in high school with a part time job but really a twenty-something businesswoman. I feel dead on my feet. Though, should I really be surprised? With the last few days I've had?

I sigh, _again, _and immediately head for my bedroom, not stopping for so much as a drink as I make my way passed the kitchen and living rooms and straight upstairs. I strip from my clothes and take an unnecessary shower. I have an urgent need to wash away the last half of this week.

Standing under the pelt of the spray, I tilt my head back and let the water tumble down over my face as I think back to the rest of the week following Edward's birthday party. What was such a wonderful evening, in spite of the judging and humiliating seat placements, was not followed up with anything remotely wonderful. When Edward came to pick me up from school on Wednesday, and warned me about the comments online, I wasn't all that surprised. I was angry, unspeakably so, but I reined it in, knowing there was nothing I could do about it. I hadn't realised until we were pulling up in the school parking lot that Edward hadn't actually told me anything specific that people had commented on the photo he'd posted on that cancerous social media the night before. But by then, it was too late.

Wednesday was actually passing in a rather calm way. Nothing was said to me... I'll repeat: nothing was said - _to me_. I had made it through all of my lessons without any sly comments or insults thrown my way, and yes, that includes from the devil-duo. My poor friend on the other hand... he wasn't so lucky. While I was revelling in every lesson that passed without barely even a glance my way, from _anyone_, Edward was suffering jokes and back handed comments about me, about this alleged _us._ To be fair, he _was_ taking it all in his stride. He wasn't even going to tell me about it.

We'd parted ways in the library after lunch with me having no knowledge of the things he'd had to deal with during the day, but there was clearly only so much Edward could take. I had just left my second to last lesson, Sociology (my only class _without_ the devil-duo), when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. As soon as I checked it, what I saw had me speed walking to the Gym, which is where I was headed for anyway. Edward has Gym the class before I do, and in his text, he'd told me that I'd have to walk home because he probably wouldn't be able to give me a ride back.

I arrived outside the Gym just in time to see Edward and one of the many assholes in our year, Michael Newton, being guided away by the boys' coach, a fuming look on the older man's face. I was horrified, and curious, when I saw the state of both Edward and Michael. Both their clothes were a crinkled mess. Edward's collar was stuck up on one side, his left sleeve halfway up his arm while the other covered his entire right arm. Mike had a rip in his shirt, quite clearly where a pocket used to be, and one of his sleeves was rolled up haphazardly, too. Edward had a reddened brow, though he didn't look as bad as Mike, who had a busted lip, blood dripping down his chin from the already swelling cut. I'm not surprised by the outcome of what was so obviously a fight between the two; Michael is a scrawny lad, with arms not much bigger than mine to put it bluntly. Edward on the other hand is bulkier, and much taller.

Obviously with me having another class and Edward otherwise indisposed, I was left wondering what the hell happened for the next hour. The rumours were spreading already, some saying Mike started it, others saying it was Edward.

I found out after class that Edward was right; he wouldn't be able to take me home.

I walked to work and repeatedly tried Edward's phone. And again afterwards. I tried getting hold of him all night, to find out what the hell had happened, but I had to agonisingly wait until the next day. I was hoping my mother had heard some gossip during her now typical stop at Forks' bar after work, but she didn't divulge anything to me.

Edward arrived at my house earlier than the previous two days on Thursday morning, apologising profusely for not answering my calls or texts. His parents had taken his phone from him for the night as punishment. _Just for one night?,_ I remember thinking. He then went on to explain all that had happened. It was after gym class and the boys were changing in the locker room. Almost everyone was dressed when Mike and a few of his pals approached Edward and began prodding him for information. When I'd asked Edward what kind of information, he'd been reluctant to tell me...

_**Flashback - Thursday 22 June 2017 [yesterday morning]**_

_"Come on, Edward. Just tell me! It was obviously about me, so I have a right to know, don't I?" I leave that with him as I sit in the passenger seat beside him, waiting rather impatiently for him to tell me. My eyes can't seem to shift from the bruise that's on his temple and seeps into his brow slightly. It must have been something bad to result in him and Mike looking the way they did yesterday._

_"No, Bella," he says, sighing heavily as he looks at his hands in his lap. He's not looked at me much at all since I told him to stop apologising for not responding to my calls or texts. "I don't want to repeat it."_

_"Was it really that bad?" I ask curiously._

_He looks at me with a tilted head and raised eyebrows, as if to say _what-the-hell-do-you-think?. _"Bella, it made me tackle Mike to the locker room floor and begin attacking him. Doesn't that speak for itself?"_

_"So _you_ started it?" I ask, doing nothing to hide my shock. He's always so... so... _calm_. Unless he's ranting and complaining about his parents or his sister, he's never really angry about anything. Edward nods silently, going back to looking down at his hands. "Well now you _have _to tell me," I insist. Edward shakes his head, sighs and opens his mouth. I think he's going to tell me, but he seems to think twice about it and snaps his lips shut, his cheeks bursting with colour. "Are you _blushing_?" I ask incredulously. "My God, Edward, now you _absolutely_ have to tell me!" I shout._

_"I really don't want to. The things they said were... _disgusting_." I feel my brows furrow. _What?_ I do nothing and wait for him to tell me. He sighs once more, his shoulders dropping. "Fine," he grumbles, fidgeting in his seat. "His friends started off the worst, but it was nothing I hadn't heard already earlier in the day. Silly things like, 'I bet her ideal date is the library', and, 'does she sleep with her Converse on?'. Silly, you know." I roll my eyes, not really bothered by any of that. The idiots only seem to attack my clothes and love of books most of the time. "But then, Mike said something..." He grimaces, which only enhances my morbid curiosity._

_"Yes?" I prompt him when it seems he isn't going to continue._

_"Bella..." he whines desperately._

_I huff and throw myself back in my seat. "Fine. I'll just go ask Mike at school then." I won't, but he doesn't know that._

_"You will not!" he says harshly._

_My head snaps to face him at his demand. "What?"_

_"Bella, please don't go and talk to him. He... what he said, it's... he's just not a very nice person."_

_"Well, I don't know that, do I?" I do. I've had a few run-ins with Mike in the past. "Not unless you tell me what was said."_

_Edward sighs and blushes again. Then it dawns on me. This something _'disgusting'_ must have been rude. Now I'm not so sure I want to know, but it's too late. Edward has already started to reveal what was said to me before I can decide to tell him that it doesn't matter. "He asked me if..." He sighs again. "He asked me if you are, um, t-tight." The last word is whispered, stuttered and barely audible._

_"Oh," is all I say, slowly sitting back in my chair._

_"Yeah."_

_We sit in silence for a few long moments. He really asked that? Creep. I shudder before reluctantly asking, "Was there anything else?"_

_"Yes, but that was what made me snap and tackle him to the ground. I'm not going to let people talk about you like that. You don't deserve it."_

_I look over to him, an appreciative smile pulling at my lips. He looks over to me nervously. "Thank you, Edward," I say quietly, leaning across to press a brief kiss to his cheek. He blushes again and I have to hold in my laugh._

_"For what?" I can't help but notice the change in his voice, how it's of a higher pitch now._

_"For defending me. You didn't have to get into a fight for me, but I appreciate it."_

_**End of Flashback**_

The school let Edward off with a warning. I don't know if that's a result of the influence of Edward's parents, or if the principal was just feeling extra generous yesterday afternoon. Rumours are, Mike didn't get off quite so easy. My wondering thoughts of why make me feel uneasy, but I couldn't bring myself to ask Edward whether he told the principal the horrible things Mike asked and said about me. If he did, then I don't want to know. Too embarrassing!

Unfortunately for me, though a part of me is thankful for it, the negative attention shifted from Edward to me today. While Edward had faced the brunt of the immature teenage attention yesterday, I faced it today and _he_ was left alone (that's the part I'm thankful for). I've been called a slut, because I'm sleeping with a guy solely for the reason that his family has money, _apparently_. I've had condoms shoved in my locker, guys coming up to me and propositioning me, asking for a "quickie" before next class.

It's become pretty clear to both Edward and I that people have let the idea that we're dating go, and have decided that we are just fucking. It's been horrible having to sit with the stares and whispered rumours. Edward has always commended me for being strong and not letting anything any of them do affect me, but today, it was impossible to do just that. I _really_ let it affect me, to the point where I was close to tears in class. I managed to hold them in though. It was all humiliating and upsetting, but I didn't let anyone see how much it was affecting me. Well, no one but Edward.

At lunch in the library, I was telling him all that had happened since we'd parted ways before first period, trying to hold back my tears, when he spotted a 'Sex for Dummies' book just over my shoulder. It had been placed on the romance shelf in the library, where I've sat for the whole of high school on a majority of lunches. It shocked me, because I didn't think anyone really paid attention to where I disappeared to during lunches. It seems _someone _knows. I'd blushed and picked it up, turned to face Edward, and then we both burst out laughing. I don't really know if it was because we found it funny, or if it was because we'd just had enough and the emotions were running a little haywire.

After lunch wasn't any easier. I almost called Angela to duck out of my hour shift after school, but decided against it last minute and got Edward to drop me off at the Bookstore. Thankfully, Angela's brother who goes to Forks High doesn't appear to have told her anything that's transpired recently. She was none the wiser.

I don't realise until I turn the shower off that the water from the shower head isn't the only droplets pouring down my face. I dry my body and then have to dry my face of the tears. I sigh and look at myself in the mirror. This is ridiculous. Why am I so affected by this? They've bullied me, spread rumours, insulted me, the whole nine yards for _years_, and I've never _ever_ been so affected by it. So why now? Why this?

Maybe it's because, in the past, the things that have been said about me have held _some_ level of truth. I _have_ been a loner. I _do_ wear dark clothes. I _am_ a moody bitch to people. What I am _not_, however, is an easy slut who will open her legs to anyone of the opposite gender.

For the rest of the afternoon, I busy myself with my chores, dusting around the house before beginning with dinner. I do some homework at the dining table while I wait for it to cook. My timer goes off and I go to get the dish out of the oven. I plate it all up onto two plates and glance at the clock. Where is Renee? I place hers in the microwave and sit by myself at the kitchen table to eat my dinner.

My phone pings from my pocket during my meal, and I smile when I see it's a text from Edward.

_I'm looking forward to this weekend. - E_

Huh? This weekend? What's happening this weekend?

I think back over the week, searching for anything we've discussed recently.

_Oh_. It dawns on me only seconds later. I told Edward after his party on Wednesday that I'd show him my meadow this weekend. I didn't tell him _what_ I was showing him, just that it was a place I'd been visiting for years. _Shit_. I'd totally forgotten about that amidst all the drama of the last couple of days.

**Yeah? - B**

I reply simply, not knowing what else to say.

_Yes. - E_

Less than ten seconds later, another text from him comes through.

_What is it? - E_

**That would be telling - B**

I bite my lip as I nervously stare at my phone, waiting for his reply. Why did I say I'd do this? At the time, it seemed like a good idea. I trust him and know that the only way I'll ever get my meadow back is if I show him exactly what I was doing the day he and his family arrived. But now I'm not so sure this is a good idea. What if he tells someone else? What if he _shows_ someone else?

_Please? - E_

**No. You'll have to wait and see. - B**

_How long do I have to wait? - E_

I sigh. I'm not getting out of this.

**How does tomorrow sound? 1-ish? - B**

_Ish... - E_

I smile at that. He's mocking me, but I don't mind when it's Edward doing the mocking. I know he doesn't mean it in a malicious way, like everyone else.

"Is that your fuck buddy?" My head whips up to the slouched figure stood in the kitchen doorway. I hadn't even heard her come in. The smile on my face instantly disappears and I lock my phone quickly, not replying to Edward.

"Shall I warm up your dinner?" I ask, ignoring her question. She nods and I stand to do just that.

I hear one of the chairs around the table scrape against the floor as she sits herself down. "So... was it?"

"Hmm?" I ask, feigning ignorance.

"On your phone, Isabella," Renee sighs impatiently. "Was it your lover?"

I blush at the brashness of her words. "He's not... we aren't..." I sigh. "We're just friends."

"Sure you are," she deadpans. "And I'm the Queen of England." My hands are shaking slightly as I place her dinner down in front of her. _Please don't do this_. I don't even ask as I go and get her a glass of wine. It's customary more now than it was a few months ago.

"Really, Mother, there's nothing more than friendship between me and Edward," I assure her as I sit back in my seat opposite her and begin picking at my food. My appetite vanished as soon as my already tipsy mother entered the room.

"Don't lie to me, Isabella. You're fucking the boy, aren't you?" I wince at her vulgar words and close my eyes. No mother should talk to her daughter this way. I feel sick. When I open my eyes I see she is looking at me with an accusatory glare. "You think you're so cute, don't you? How do you think this makes me look? My daughter is sleeping with my boss' son."

"I'm not."

"Do not lie to me!" The shaking in my hands spreads to my entire body as her bellowed demand washes over me. _I'm not lying though._ I watch as she places another forkful of the chicken pasta bake into her mouth. "I'm not _too_ angry about it yet." I feel my brows raise at her confession. "Time will tell whether this will benefit me or not." Huh? How would this benefit her? As if she can read my thoughts, she continues.

"You, my daughter, may be onto something with this... this _whoring_ yourself out." I gasp at her words, but manage to keep the shock to myself as I force a mouthful of food past my trembling lips. I don't think my stomach can take much more. "Yes, you just may be," she says thoughtfully, more to herself than to me. I keep my anxious gaze on her as she seems to think about something. "One of the leading lawyers in the firm has a son not much older than you. Perhaps?..." My mouth drops open at her words. _Oh God, no..._

"And doesn't Angela have a brother in Forks High? You could use this new found bargaining chip to _your_ advantage and get yourself a raise." I gasp loudly this time, my cutlery dropping from my shaking hands. I can't believe what she's suggesting... she wants me to... _oh my God_... I'll never do it! She can punish me for refusing all she wants, but I won't 'whore myself out' for her benefit, or my own.

Her eyes calmly follow the path of my cutlery, before her bored gaze flicks to my face. "Don't be so dramatic, Isabella," she says with a sigh. "I'm only joking." There's a part of me that knows she isn't joking. There was some truth to her words.

I force a small smile onto my face and pick up my cutlery again. I don't do anything with them however, my eyes remaining glued on Renee, which is how I don't miss the narrowing of her eyes before she returns to her meal.

_Yeah right. Joking, my ass._

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**A/N: I know... you all hate Renee. So do I. A lot.**

**And I know the things said to and about Bella are horrible, but it's all necessary for the development of the story. You'll see.**

**Thanks for returning. I apologise for the late upload again. I _should_ be back tomorrow! See you then.**


	34. Chapter 34: 'Just trust me' (Bella POV)

**A/N: I'm on time today! Yes! Thank you Kathy, for your review. Unfortunately I can't reply to you any other way because you're not signed in, but I'm glad you're enjoying my story and here's what you're looking forward to ;)**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Thirty-four: 'Just trust me' (Bella POV)

_Saturday 24 June 2017_

Today, I complete my Saturday chores in record time. The weekly bathroom clean is done, the blinds on every window, except my mother's room, is wiped down, and the tedious job of wiping over light switches and door handles is carried out, all before 10:30AM. All that's left to do after I serve Renee her usual weekend fully cooked breakfast is make her bed, clean the blinds in _her_ bedroom, and finally get more presentable so I can leave the house with some dignity.

Not having to worry about homework now that the school year is over for the summer allows me even _more_ time to do things for myself, when I'm not busy completing my chores. It's one of the many things I love about summer vacation. That, and the two months of no school! I can officially say I've completed Sophomore year of High School. And surprisingly, the few tutoring sessions me and Edward had _actually _paid off. I passed the end of year math exams with much more ease than the mid-year ones.

I woke this morning determined to finish all my housework as soon as possible, so I can be at Edward's house for 1:00PM as planned. I am undeniably nervous for what today has in store, but mixed in with the anxiety is a whole lot of excitement. I'm seeing my meadow again! It's shocking to think that it's been over two months since I last set foot in my place. And though I've been thankful for the little push having my place taken away from me gave me to go to the cemetery to visit my father's grave, I can't deny that I've missed my meadow wholeheartedly.

With it being almost July, the weather is warmer. Living in Forks means that, even in the summer, we get rained on a majority of the time. However, today the sun is shining, which I can only hope is a sign of good things to come.

I quickly shower, washing away the sweat and grime of rushing around like a mad woman all morning, and then I take my time picking what I want to wear. While stood in front of my wardrobe, slowly stoking my way through my mostly black and grey clothes, a sudden thought invades my decision making brain. I'm taking unusual - well, unusual for _me_ \- caution in what I choose to wear. I've never done that. Not for years anyway. The thought is startling, and it rocks me to the core. It's _so _startling in fact, that I stumble back a bit, like the thought literally pushed me, and I clutch at the towel that's still wrapped around me.

Why _am _I taking so long to decide what to wear? Why _am_ I concerned about how much darkness is in my wardrobe? Why _am_ I freaking out about having nothing suitable to wear?

_You're in denial,_ a small part of my brain probes at me. I want to beat it away with my trusty black converse which I've decided, for once, are too grubby to wear today. But of course the voice in my brain is correct. I _am _in denial.

I'm in denial because I know the answers to all those questions. Every 'why' has the same reason, a reason I know perfectly well.

It's because I'll be spending the afternoon with a certain green eyed, bronze haired boy who's become my best friend in the last couple months. A green eyed, bronze haired boy who, at some unknown point in recent time, has made my heart stutter at the thought of him and has me smiling uncontrollably. I don't really know when, but some time recently, my thoughts toward my best friend have altered. I have a feeling it was sometime this week. And I have a stronger feeling that it was at his birthday party, when he was holding me while we danced, when he was sneaking us away from his own birthday celebrations, when he had to hold back from defending me to his family. At some point, I've had some altering shift in dynamics, a shift that has my gaze drawing to his lips whenever his face is close by, that has me blushing at the mere brush of his arm against mine.

At some point, I have developed _some_ kind of feelings for Edward. It's only a stupid crush, a stir of teenage hormones, but it's _something_. And all of this, now that I'm stepping back and reflecting on it, only adds to my nerves for today. Now that I've come (kinda) to terms with these strange inexplicable feelings I've been having recently, I don't know what to do with the information. Maybe it's something that's been developing over time, but no matter when or how it happened, I've acquired a crush on my best friend. And that can't be any good for either of us.

It's not like I can act on it. We're pushing the social boundaries as it is by being just friends. Imagine the uproar we'd create by being more than that. Just _look_ at how people have reacted and treated us this week at the wrongful assumption that we're together, either in the dating capacity or just fooling around. Imagine if we confirmed that. All the ridicule would only get worse and I don't know how much more either of us can take.

Besides, Edward doesn't feel the same way. I'm his friend. Nothing more and nothing less.

I push away all of my thoughts on this for now, and get back to the frustratingly difficult task of choosing today's outfit. I huff and reach in, taking the dive (otherwise I'd be here all day) and pulling my very dark purple plaid shirt from it's hanger. It's a purple that's marginally close to being black, with white-almost-grey as well as magenta lines that make up the plaid pattern. I put a black tank top on after slipping into my underwear, before putting the plaid shirt on over the top. I don't bother buttoning it up for now as I pull my dark denim shorts up my legs. They reach mid-thigh, long enough to hide the surprisingly rapidly fading bruise on my thigh, and have frayed hems. They were originally a pair of full length jeans, but they had too many holes in the legs so I just cut them down to shorts. I understand the ripped jeans look, but I mean, _come on!_ There has to be a line drawn somewhere. Some 'ripped jeans' can't even be called jeans. You may as well not be even wearing anything on your legs at all!

Thankful for my Converse obsession and the fact that I have a pair in practically every colour, I pull my dark purple high tops from the bottom of my wardrobe and slip them on. I look at myself in the mirror by my wardrobe_. It'll do, _I think to myself, ignoring my left wrist that's strapped into the splint Mr Cullen lent to me. Telling my mother that her boss' husband tended to the arm she sprained was _not _fun. She flipped her lid, but managed to keep her hands to herself. The verbal lashing I got was not pretty, but the fact that I came up with the plausible lie of the bookstore's back door crushing it helped conceal part of her anger.

After packing a small bag, with a blanket, a book, my journal and pen, and my little Bluetooth speaker I treated myself to a while ago, I head downstairs. It's barely midday, but I figure Edward won't mind me being a little early. He seemed eager enough over text yesterday.

Entering the kitchen to grab a couple bottles of water and two chocolate bars for Edward and I to snack on later, I notice that my mother is no longer in here eating her breakfast, but she _has _left her dirty - and empty - plate on the table, waiting for me to clean it up. I do just that before grabbing the items I came in for.

I peak my head around the living room door and see my mother sat on the sofa, a glass of wine in hand as she laughs at an episode of Friends. She glances at me passively, but soon whips her eyes back to me for a second look. "Going somewhere?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. I tense, instantly on alert. For the past few years, my mother has _never_ paid any interest in what I do or where I go outside of this house. As long as I'm back for curfew and get all my chores done, she couldn't care less - or so I thought.

"Yes," I answer meekly. "Is that okay?"

She looks pensive for a second. "I suppose," she drawls after an extended pause. "Are you going to see lover boy by any chance?"

My right hand tightens around the handle of my bag at her words. He is _not_ my lover! I want to scream that at her, but wisely don't. I don't bother correcting her in any way at all. I simply nod, wordless.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And make sure you use protection. I don't need you going off and getting pregnant to any of the boys in this town, _especially _Edward Cullen," she says with a callous smirk, before turning her attention back to the TV. I pivot and leave the room, my jaw ticking in anger, my cheeks burning red. I can't escape the rumours even in my own home! It makes me that bit more excited to get out of here and to my best friend.

My meadow, surprisingly, isn't even in the forefront of my mind. Sure, I'm mega excited to see it again after so long, but Edward is what I'm most excited for. I'm both shocked and worried at that revelation. This crush is more serious than I originally thought.

_Stupid, Bella_. It's just because he's my best friend.

Yeah. That's it. Nothing more than that.

I inhale deeply and exhale loudly as I leave my house, praying today will go well.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

I lean my bicycle against the tree it's become quite accustomed to over the last five years but lost touch with recently. I can't stop myself from stepping back to just stare at it for ten seconds, there, where it is meant to be. I then turn to face the Cullen's magnificent home and stop to wait for a few moments, hoping Edward miraculously knows I'm here over half an hour early and will come out to me.

He doesn't. I reluctantly walk across the wide paved drive way and up to the front door. I inhale deeply and exhale slowly before raising my hand to knock. I fiddle with the strap of my bag that's slung over my shoulders while I wait for someone to answer.

Someone eventually does: Mrs Cullen. Her face pinches up as soon as she sees it's me. Her lips tighten, her eyes narrow slightly and I can visibly see the tension enter her muscles. _Wow, she _really_ dislikes me._

"Miss Swan," she says formally, "how can I help you?"

"Hello, Mrs Cullen," I greet her, putting as much friendliness as I can into my words. "I'm here to see Edward. He's expecting me."

"Is he now," she says, and I tense up, on guard at the tone she's now using. She's gone from formal and polite, albeit forcibly so, to suspicious and clipped. "He didn't mention anything to me."

"Oh?" is all I come back with. She remains silent for many seconds, just staring at me.

"He's rather busy right now."

"Oh?" is my repeated reply to her dismissive statement. She's not getting rid of me that easily.

"Yes," she says slowly, continuing when it becomes obvious I'm not going to leave. "He's watching a movie with the girls in the media room." _The girls?_ My confusion must be showing on my face, because she is all too pleased to clear things up for me. "Alice has some friends over. They're staying for the weekend." _An entire weekend with the devil-duo, and possibly Rosalie? Oh, poor Edward._

"That's okay. I'll wait," I reply casually.

"You can if you'd like. But they've only just started the movie. He could be a while." I know what she's doing. She's trying to put me off of spending time with her son, trying to push me away. I won't let her do it.

"Okay. I'll wait." I smile with as much sincerity as I can before turning my back to her and sitting down on the doorstep. There's a long silence that follows my defiant movements, before the door slams shut behind me, causing me to jump.

I sigh and pull my phone from my bag. His mother may think that the idea of him spending time with those girls will turn me away, but I know my best friend. As soon as I text Edward, letting him know I'm here, he'll leave the movie and come up to see me.

At least I hope he will.

I get no reply to my message, telling him I'm waiting outside, but that's no bother because no more than a minute later, I hear loud voices from inside, quickly followed by the opening and closing of the front door behind me, revealing Edward, who's cursing quietly under his breath. I quickly stand, brushing my hands over my backside to rid it of imaginary dirt.

"Hey!" I say, grinning widely. He returns my enthusiasm, and pulls me into a hug.

"Hey! My mother didn't leave you out here long did she?" he asks. I don't miss the tense way he says 'mother'. I shake my head.

"No. It was my decision to wait out here. It's a lovely day," I reply, shielding my eyes to look up at the light blue sky, which is dotted with the odd cloud here and there. When I lower my head to look back at Edward, I see he's staring at me with a mild smile on his face. I blush and look down at my feet before my eyes can be drawn to that smile of his.

"So, what will you be showing me today then?" he asks, pulling me out of my concentration on my quickening heart. I glance behind me at the closed front door, wary that his mother could be on the other side, listening to her son talking to his best friend that she detests so much. I grasp his bare elbow - he obviously thinks it's quite warm today, too, having only a maroon t-shirt on with some khaki shorts and... Converse! I grin down at his shoes. I've never seen him wear these, but I love that he owns a pair of my favourite brand. It's really silly of me to be so happy about this, seeing as most people probably own at least one pair of Converse, but I don't let that erase the smile from my face.

Once I'm certain we're far enough away from the door, I stop and look back toward Edward. He's firmly focused on the trees, though he's not honed in on the exact spot where the trail begins. "I don't want to tell you yet. It's a surprise. But I recommend you go get your camera."

He glances down at me, confused. "Why?"

"Just trust me."

He looks intrigued, cocking his head while looking at me as he backs away. He holds up a finger, indicating one minute, before he jogs round the side of the house and disappears. I know he's going to use the back door to enter his room. While I wait for Edward to get his camera, I dawdle over to the trail opening. Edward is going to be _very _grateful I recommended he get his camera. The meadow is too beautiful to pass up being captured by a passionate photographer.

It's a hobby of Edward's that he mentioned when we first became friends. I knew instantly that it was something he was extremely passionate about, just by the way he talked about it. But since then, he hasn't mentioned it once, and I've never actually seen him taking pictures. I'd figured for a while now that it was something he liked to do in his own company, just like me and my journalling, but the immediate way he accepted my recommendation just proved to me that that's not the case. So why keep so quiet about it?

Before I can dwell on that for too long, Edward returns, black camera bag slung over his shoulder and across his chest. "Ready?" I ask, my nerves making themselves known in my shaking voice. He nods, grinning from ear to ear. "Okay. Follow me." And then I lead him beyond the treeline and onto the trail.

For the first five minutes, we are both silent. I'm marvelling in the fact that I haven't forgotten the path to my meadow, though I didn't expect to. I can hear Edward's feet breaking twigs behind me, so I know he's keeping up. I'm not walking too quickly, but I'm keeping good pace, not wanting to waste anytime that I may have in my meadow.

When I turn off the forest trail and onto an unmarked path, Edward finally speaks up for the first time. "Um, Bella, where are we going?"

I look back at him over my shoulder. He's frowning, but not looking at me. He's focused on his feet as he steps over protruding tree roots and rocks. I slow down until we're side by side and then pick up the pace, now with Edward right beside me. This part isn't too narrow, though we'll have to go back to single file in a couple minutes. "You'll see."

I feel his gaze flick to me very briefly. "This isn't the day I find out you're a serial killer, is it?"

I laugh and reach out to slap his arm. He chuckles. Is that nerves I detect? My laughing seizes as I look over at him, my mouth gaping. He wasn't joking!

"What?" he asks innocently, shrugging when he spots my shocked expression. I'm gobsmacked and almost stop walking altogether. That is until I see the smirk he's fighting, and realise he's pulling my leg.

"Asshole," I hiss, shoving at his arm with my non-splinted hand. His smirk is unleashed now, and I focus ahead of me again, before my heart rate can get any faster. This is ridiculous!

A little under ten minutes later, I come to a stop by the thorn bush I fatefully fell through all them years ago. Since then, I've managed to clear a little gap to fit through. It allows me to enter my meadow unharmed but still leaves it concealed to a potential passerby. Edward stops beside me, looking around curiously. "Is this it?" he asks, his disappointment palpable in his voice.

I chuckle, which draws his attention to me. "Nope," I reply with a firm shake of my head. And then, without another word, I walk up to the tree that's a little to my left, the one beside the thorn bush, and squeeze myself between the two, effectively disappearing from Edward's view.

"Bella?" Edward hisses quietly. Why is he whispering? I have to hold back my giggle. "Bella, where have you gone?" I roll my eyes and wait for the idiot to follow my lead. It takes him a full minute to appear on this side of the plants that hide my meadow from the other side, and the thing that stops me from sarcastically clapping at him is his look of amazement as he lays his eyes on the wonder behind me.

I haven't looked properly yet, waiting to see Edward's reaction first. I'm glad I did, because I wouldn't miss this for the world. He's speechless. His eyes are wide, his mouth gaping. In a daze, he walks past me slowly, further into the meadow. I follow him with my eyes, turning slowly as he passes until I'm too facing the beautiful sight. My eyes instinctively leave Edward as I look around at the scenery. A large lump of emotions lodges itself in my throat. I want to cry, I'm so happy that I'm back here. After thinking that I'd never set eyes on this place again, the feeling this moment brings is indescribable!

I glance back to Edward eventually, and see he's already unpacked his camera and is walking around, pointing the lense at every possible angle to snap shots of the meadow. I smile at his awed expression which is still firmly planted on his face, even during his concentration.

Leaving him to have some fun doing his thing, I walk to my favourite spot, in the center of the meadow. I unfold the blanket from my bag and spread it out before dropping to the floor. I instantly lay back and close my eyes, soaking up the sun and warm feelings just being here brings. I spend some time reacquainting myself with my place again, inhaling and exhaling deeply to absorb that natural and floral smell in the air.

My eyes pop open when I hear the familiar click of a camera. It's been faintly reaching my ears over the little while that's passed since we arrived here, sometimes closer than others, but just now was the closest it's been yet. I shield my eyes with my right hand to see where Edward is. He's not too far to my left, the camera pointing directly at me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my tone slightly accusing. He drops the camera away from his face and holds it at his side as he comes closer. The relaxed smile on his face lessens my suspicion only a little.

"It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You looked so at peace just then. I had to." He shrugs nonchalantly as he sits down beside me. I push myself up into a sitting position, turning so I'm facing him. We're sat identically, both with our legs crossed, knees ten inches from contact. "Bella..." he says, looking around admirably. "How did you find this place?"

"It was an accident," I admit, also looking around. "I've been coming here for years." I can sense his eyes on me again, but I don't turn back toward him.

"This is where you'd been the day we arrived in Forks, isn't it?" he asks, though he knows the answer to that question already, I believe. I nod silently. "When did you last come here?"

I sigh and face him finally. The guilt on his face tells me he already knows the answer to that question, too. "That was the last day I came here." My following shrug is a failed attempt to appear unaffected.

"I'm sorry we stopped you from coming here, Bella. If I'd had this place taken away from me, I... damn, I don't know what I'd do. It's so amazing here."

"It is, isn't it," I reply, smiling. Neither of us mention the fact that I didn't really acknowledge his apology. To be honest, I'd rather not. I'm here now and that's all that matters.

We're both silent for a while after, but it's a comfortable silence. It's like neither of us wants to break the tranquil this meadow projects. I eventually change position, after getting the two bottles of water out of my bag and handing one to Edward, I lay back down across the blanket. Edward packs away his camera and follows suit, stretching himself out beside me. I close my eyes and listen to the birds tweeting and that distinctive but very far off sound of rushing water.

"How are you feeling after this week?" Edward is the first to disrupt the silence, and I wish he hadn't chosen this subject to do it. Anything but this subject!

My eyes clench shut while I collect my very recently relaxed thoughts, trying to piece together an answer. "I don't know," I finally answer, one-hundred percent truthful. I sigh heavily. "The end of the week has been..." I pause, searching for the right word.

"Tough?" Edward finishes for me. I huff out a long breath and chuckle humourlessly.

"Yeah. Tough. I'll be thankful once I can put this week behind me."

"Too right," Edward agrees. I think that's all that he'll say on the matter, but unfortunately he goes on. "I just can't believe how much of a big deal people think this is. It was only a damn picture."

"And dancing, and hiding away in your bedroom, and _escorting _me to my table," I remind him, listing off all the reasons he told me his sister threw at him Wednesday morning. I wasn't at all shocked to be honest, though that hasn't lessened my anger toward it all in any way. The past few days have had me thinking of little else.

Edward continues venting and I let him say it all, listening and considering all that he says intently. It's nice having someone who can sympathise and relate with me, even if I do wish Edward didn't have to be involved in the harsh treatment I recieve from others at all. "It's just so fucking ridiculous. All of it. Why do they all care so much? Why do they treat you this way? It makes no sense. It's not just the pathetic teenagers either. It's their parents and _my _parents." _And my mother_, I add silently. "And why the hell would it matter if we _were_ more than friends in _any_ capacity? Why should they care? If we were dating, then they'd have to deal with it. It's no one's fucking business but our own. And if we were just fooling around, then so be it. I-"

"Why don't we?" The words, which sound way too casual to my ears, are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Edward instantly stops ranting and bolts into a sitting position beside me. My eyes are cautiously locked on his face, which is revealing his astonishment at my way-too-casual suggestion. "What did you just say?"

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so, _that_ just happened. Did you expect her to say that? What do you think will happen next?**


	35. Chapter 35: 'Similar in both areas' (B)

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying this story!**

**This is my second try editing this chapter; my page refreshed when I was half way through and wiped this document the first time. Grrr.**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

_"It's just so fucking ridiculous. All of it. Why do they all care so much? Why do they treat you this way? It makes no sense. It's not just the pathetic teenagers either. It's their parents and _my_ parents." _And my mother_, I add silently. "And why the hell would it matter if we _were_ more than friends in _any _capacity? Why should they care? If we were dating, then they'd have to deal with it. It's no one's fucking business but our own. And if we were just fooling around, then so be it. I-"_

_"Why don't we?" The words, which sound way too casual to my ears, are out of my mouth before I can stop them._

_Edward instantly stops ranting and bolts into a sitting position beside me. My eyes are cautiously locked on his face, which is revealing his astonishment at my way-too-casual suggestion. "What did you just say?"_

Chapter Thirty-five: 'Similar in both areas' (Bella POV)

_Saturday 24 June 2017_

I slowly sit up, too, now wishing I'd kept my damn mouth shut. Why did I have to go and say that? What is wrong with me? But there's no taking it back now. I'm positive, even though he's asking for a repeat, that Edward heard and understood me perfectly well the first time.

"What?" I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant.

His mouth opens and closes several times and I drop my gaze to my lap, waiting for him to tell me what he's thinking. Waiting for him to laugh in my face. Have I just ruined everything with three impulsive words?

"What do you mean?" he finally manages to ask. I shrug again and peak up at him from beneath my eyelashes, not wanting to face him completely. I don't know what's come over me, but even if I _could_, I wouldn't want to take what I've just said back.

"Why don't we, you know..." I trail off hoping Edward will catch my meaning, but he either really _is _clueless, or he's pretending to be. I huff impatiently. "Why don't we actually do... _stuff _together, Edward!"

"Oh," is all he says. I wait silently as I try to determine his thoughts on this, but he's irritatingly silent, just staring at me with an odd, glazed expression on his face. "Really?" he eventually asks. I'm glad he doesn't sound outraged and disgusted, but his shock doesn't do much to abate my nerves.

"Yeah. Everyone thinks we are fooling around already, so why not get something out of their tormenting. It could be... fun."

His brows shoot up at my choice of words. "You don't want to do it just because of what everyone is saying, do you?" The uncertainty and vulnerability in Edward's voice has _my _eyebrows pulling up now.

"No. There are other reasons, but doing what they believe we're doing is just an additional reason."

"What other reasons?" Edward asks, his eyes now focused intently on mine. I have the urge to look away, to escape his insightful stare, but I don't. I keep my gaze locked with his.

"Everyone in this town hates me," I begin quietly. "I'll never date any of them, not that I want to. I'll never _do_ anything with any of them. You're the only person in Forks that tolerates me."

"It's more than tolerating, Bella," he murmurs just as quietly, leaning closer to grab my hand. He pulls it into his lap. I don't stop him. I just let him keep my hand there, encased in both of his large palms. I smile mildly but don't let his interruption curb me from my point.

"I want my first time to be with someone that I know. Someone I trust. There isn't anyone in Forks that I would feel comfortable with." He looks down at our hands. "Except you," I add, causing his head to quickly lift again. He's looking at me thoughtfully, and I hope my nerves aren't noticeable on my face. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, and I can easily detect Edward is in a similar predicament; his fast paced breaths are audible in the small gap between us.

"How long have you felt like this?" he asks me eventually.

"I don't know," I mutter, breaking our eye contact as I look down at my lap, unsure. "These are thoughts I've been having on and off recently. And with all the recent rumours about us, I don't know, it's just pushed the idea forward. Trust me, when I woke up this morning, I didn't plan to be having this conversation with you today." We both laugh nervously.

"All I know for sure is that I want my first time to be as comfortable as possible, with someone who knows me on a personal level. It doesn't even matter that we're not dating... it just feels _right _that it would be you. You're the closest person to me and... yeah... it feels right." The silence after that stretches on. And stretches on. And stretches on.

I'm beginning to regret this unexpected turn in conversation. I want to pull my hand from Edward's, but he's got a vice like grip around me. He's just staring at me. I can sense the cogs working in his mind. "Aren't you just the least bit curious as to what all the hype is about?" I ask quietly, attempting to persuade him. Being in high school, you tend to hear a lot about the *_amazing_* thing that is sex and all its variants of pleasure. Even me, who speaks to no one besides Edward, hears about it all. Standing alone can lead to acquiring the habit of eavesdropping, even when you don't necessarily want to. Oh, I've heard about _it_ for sure. I can't say I'm not curious myself. And Edward _has _to be. I mean, he's a guy. Aren't they all? He doesn't have a girlfriend, I know that, but surely he's curious? Oh God, unless he's gay?

After sitting in what has now been uncomfortable silence for so long, and with my worry creating more and more possibilities in my mind, I honestly don't expect much of a response. And definitely not any agreement.

And I absolutely one-hundred percent do _not _expect Edward to suddenly lean forward and kiss me. But he does.

One moment he's gazing at me with this thoughtful and slightly shocked look on his face, and the next he's bent across the small gap between us, his lips pressed tentatively to mine, causing a warmth to spread through me - accompanied by shock.

I don't respond straight away, too shocked to do much more than sit frozen in my place, eyes wide and heart trying to beat it's way out of my chest. After a good ten seconds, Edward pulls back no more than an inch. His face is close to mine, our noses touching. He's staring into my eyes.

I've always felt like Edward can see straight into my thoughts, straight into my _soul_, when he looks at me with that searching gaze of his. In the beginning of our friendship, it had me on guard around him. I was always so scared he'd see something that would either make him suspicious or send him running for the hills. But now, I relax, flicking my own gaze between his eyes and his mouth. He doesn't move again, like he's waiting for me to make the next move.

So I do. I lean forward that tiny bit that allows our mouths to meet again. My heart is beating faster than ever before, but I don't break the kiss. If anything, I physically melt into the kiss - _my first kiss._ I move my lips, moulding them to Edward's as he presses closer. My hand is released from his grip as he reaches up and cups my face with both hands, giving me the opportunity to lift my own hands, which I place safely on his shoulders.

I'm nervous and shocked and delighted all at once. The emotions soon jumble into a forgotten ball as I sink further into this wonderful new experience. This definitely isn't how I imagined my first kiss - this is _better._

Neither of us seems to be prepared to break our connection, not even for air. Edward tilts my head manually with his hands and I hook my arms around his neck, threading my fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

I don't know how it happens, but at some point we shift positions. One moment we're sat facing each other, Edward raised slightly on his knees to reach my lips, and the next I'm on my back with Edward hovering above me as we continue our gentle kisses. There's no opening of mouths to deepen the kiss and I think we are both nervous to take initiative on that part. Well, that's what I'm assuming, until I feel the new and strange sensation of something warm and wet probing at the seam of my lips.

My eyes open in alarm, shocked, but Edward is lost in the moment, his eyes closed. I close mine again and tentatively open my mouth just a bit. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth and an embarrassing, uncontrolled moan slips from my throat. I blush but don't open my eyes to see if he heard it. By the lack of pause in his movements, I assume he didn't. Soon I copy his initiative and we're in a foreign dance of tongues. The first moment our tongues meet, I'm not the only one to release a sound of pleasure.

Edward's body settles more firmly onto one side of mine and it's like the added weight, albeit miniscule, squeezes the last remaining bit of diminishing air from my lungs. I hate to be the one to stop, but I have to for fear of passing out. I turn my head and suck in a much needed gulp of air. Edward is breathing harshly onto the side of my face, his forehead resting gently against my temple. We both take a few moments to regain some composure.

That was completely unexpected. I close my eyes, count to five, and then turn to face Edward, who's raised his head but hasn't moved his body off of mine. "I'll take that as a yes then," I whisper, before allowing a small smirk to appear on my face. His answering smile is bashful, which is only enhanced when heat rises in his cheeks.

"Yeah... sorry for attacking you," he says, slowly rolling himself off of the side of my body. I turn onto my right and we lay in identical positions, facing each other on our sides.

"Don't be sorry."

There's a comfortable silence as we both stare at each other for a while. My mind keeps replaying that kiss, and my eyes can't stop jumping back down to his slightly swollen lips every few seconds.

"So how would this work then?" Edward eventually asks, placing one hand in the space on the blanket between us. I attempt a shrug - which only results in a lift of my left shoulder because I'm led on my side - and place my splinted hand over his.

"How would you like this to work?" There. Leave the ball in his court. It may have been my suggestion but it wasn't planned and I have absolutely no experience.

I search his eyes for _something_, anything that tells me what he's thinking. "I don't know. I've never..." he trails off. _Oh_. He doesn't have any experience either. I don't know why, but after that heated kiss, I'm surprised. He's just so _good_ at it.

"Well... we could take it slow, ease into things and see what happens. Or... we could go straight for the main event." I want to roll my eyes at myself. _'We could go straight for the main event'? This isn't a bloody circus! What are you, five? Just say the word! Sex, Bella! It's sex!_

I wait while Edward thinks silently. He inhales audibly and opens his mouth as if to speak, before halting mid breath, drawing my gaze back down to his mouth. I force my eyes back up to his when he goes to speak again. "We should go straight for it, I think. Might as well jump in the deep end from the very start." _Looks like neither of us can say it._ There's a silence between us - a silence that feels needed in this moment - before we both break out into wide grins. Soon we're laughing together. I roll my face into the blanket to try and hide my blushing face, as well as muffle my laughs. When I feel Edward's face pressing into my hair, the grin around my laughing only broadens.

Who knew an unplanned proposition, made by _me_ of all people, would lead to such amusement? And happiness.

Once we've calmed down, we are back in our previous positions, laying on our sides facing each other. "Okay then," I say, nodding. Silence. "When?" I ask, my nerves returning in tenfold. I can feel a swarm of butterflies having a party in my belly.

"I don't know," Edward replies, sounding equally as nervous as me. "Soon."

"Okay," I whisper my consent.

I have to hold back my smile as Edward inches forward until his face is close enough for us to share breath, and then cranes his neck to press his lips to mine.

I internally sigh. _I could get used to this._

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Wednesday 28 June 2017_

Summers, for me, are one of the best times of year, because the hours that I _would_ be at school during the academic year are _all mine!_ My chore requirements at home don't change, so during 'school hours' I am free to do whatever I want. I still have the same work schedule at the Bookstore, too. The weekdays during the summers are more relaxing for me than any weekend throughout the entire year.

And _this_ summer is even better than any that have preceded it, because I have Edward to spend my time with. On top of the relaxing weekdays, I have a friend I can relax with.

Well, that would be the case if I hadn't made that utterly stupid proposal that we _have sex_. That we be each other's firsts. Ever since I made the proposal at the meadow on Saturday, I've been in undeniable shock. I honestly have no idea where that came from. It definitely wasn't planned and I hadn't actually thought of even making the proposal at all before I did, despite what I told Edward. Sure, I'd thought about the way I feel about Edward and what it could mean, but not for one minute did I consider propositioning him to be my first... well, my first _everything._

What have I done? This could be the beginning of the end of our friendship! I've basically broached the idea that we be _friends-with-benefits_, and as almost everyone knows, that can never end well... unless the two parties involved end up together. But that won't happen with us. Will it? We've only agreed to be together in the physical sense. In all other aspects of life, we're still friends. Nothing less and certainly nothing more.

Neither of us has spoken of what we discussed at my meadow since Saturday. As soon as we left the sanctuary of that place, it's like the topic was taboo. We've not discussed it. When on the phone or the four times we've met up since then. Not once. But despite neither of us speaking up about it, there has been this heavy tension between us. Sometimes I swear I can hear it crackling in the air between us.

Each time we've met up since then, we've arranged it in fairly public places. Places we can't _do _anything. Not even kiss, like we did in my meadow - I'd be lying if I said this wasn't disappointing.

It's not that I want to back out of our agreement, not at all. I'm just _really _nervous since we had that conversation. I never know when he'll bring it up again. Is he thinking about it all the time, like I am? Does he still want to go through with it? Does he want to kiss again, as badly as I do?

All these questions and no answers. None whatsoever... until this afternoon.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

It's the first time since we had _the conversation_ that we're meeting up in a non-public place. I'm getting ready to head over to Edward's house. I feel nervous, as I have every time we've met up or even just spoken on the phone since _the conversation_ \- I really need a better name for it than that - but I'm sure nothing will happen today. Though Edward's parents are both out at work until the evening, his sister and her friends - all of them, _sigh _\- are at the Cullens' house. It's almost enough to put me off of going, but my mother is ill today and has taken the day off of work.

She's a groaning, vomiting lump on the couch. If she had the energy, she'd be taking her ill feelings out on me.

I'd expected to be ordered around all morning, having no choice but to cancel on Edward today, but surprisingly she's asked only one thing of me, "to get her a sick bucket, tissues and leave her alone". _No problem!_

After showering, I throw on my Queen band t-shirt, some skinny jeans and black converse before grabbing my jacket, my bag filled with everything I may possibly need for an afternoon at my best friend's house, and head out the door, only letting my mother know I'm gone by sliding a note - that simply read: _"Gone to Edward's. Be back after work"_ \- under the door of the front room. She did say to leave her alone.

I see it's 10:30AM as I check the time on my phone before plugging my headphones in and bringing up a playlist. Soon I'm enjoying what could very well be my last time walking to Edward's house. I have my drivers test on Friday, and if all goes well I'll be cruising to Edward's in my father's cherished truck next time. That's if my mother let's me have it. But I'm not going to worry about how I'll broach _that_ subject for now.

I take my time, not really in any rush. Not until I get a frantic text from Edward when I'm less than ten minutes from his house that says: _WHERE ARE YOU? I NEED SAVING! HURRY UP! - E_

I don't know whether to laugh or groan. I can only imagine what he's suffering with a house full of Alice, Jessica, Lauren, Tyler, Emmett, Jasper _and_ Rosalie. I pick up my pace until I'm jogging towards Edward's house.

Six minutes later I'm outside his house. I'm busy packing my headphones away in my bag, distracted, as I walk toward the front door. I'm not even in line with the door before it is swinging open and a wide-eyed, frightened Edward comes barrelling out of the house. The door slams shut behind him. "Woah," I say, trying my best not to giggle at the frantic way he stumbles toward me. "What's happened to you?"

As if to steady himself, he wraps his hand around my left elbow when he reaches me, as mindful as ever of the splint still encasing my wrist. "I am so glad you're here," he replies breathlessly, pulling me into his chest where he proceeds to squeeze the life out of me. I pat his side sympathetically before quickly pulling away, already feeling the dampness that his drenched, therefore _tight,_ black t-shirt has transferred to the material of my top. "Jesus, Edward. Is that sweat? You're all wet," I say as I run my right hand through his soaking wet hair. "What the hell is going on?"

"I-"

He's interrupted by the dreaded high squeal of a voice that pierces our eardrums, coming from the direction of the house. "Edward! Are you coming to play?" I turn to see Jessica - wrapped in a towel and _nothing _else, her hair dripping.

My eyes widen as my gaze sweeps away from a soaked, almost-exposed Jessica to an equally soaked Edward. _What the hell?_

"Oh. _You_," Jessica says, disheartened. When I look back toward her, she is frowning, eyes narrowed in my direction.

"Did you find him, Jess?" Now Lauren joins the party, revealing even _more_ skin than Jessica in her neon pink bikini, _if you can even call it that_. Those triangles are so small you could use them for an infant's eye patch at Halloween - actually, scratch that; what a horrifying image. Her face, which was momentarily bright with an all-teeth-showing smile, quickly darkens when she spots me stood beside Edward, who I realise still has a hand wrapped around my elbow when Lauren's eyes jump down to it.

I gently pull my arm out of his grasp as Lauren sneers, "What the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

Before I can answer, which I intended to do with just as much venom as she spat at me, Edward responds. "Bella's here because I invited her, Lauren. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to my guest so harshly."

I have to hold back my smile as he defends me. _Ha! Take that, bitches!_

"You've got strange taste in friends, Edward," Lauren says snidely, crossing her arms and further drawing attention to her boobs, which are already gaining enough attention all on their own without the extra help.

"Let's hope your taste in girlfriends is better, right Eddie?" Jessica chirps up in a sickly sweet voice. I can hear Edward grind his teeth at the use of that God awful nickname that originates from his sister.

"You'll find my tastes are similar in both areas, I'm afraid." _Say what? _"Now, if you'll excuse us," he says, as calm as a cucumber, shocking all three of us girls into jaw-dropping silence. As if to further prove his point, he wraps his arm around my shoulders, soaking my left side as he guides me round the right side of the house, down the steep decline and through the exterior door of his bedroom at the back.

I'm still stunned to silence while he locks the door and draws all the drapes closed. As soon as he's facing me, I pick my jaw up from its place on the ground and confront him. "What the hell was that, Edward?" I whisper-yell, not knowing where in the house the rest of the tormentors are.

"What?" he says with a shrug, but the forced innocence in his voice tells me he knows _exactly_ what.

"Why did you just say that? Do you know what they will be thinking now?" I'm frantic. We don't need any more negativity thrown our way. _I_ don't need any more. Does he not get that?

I stare at him, gobsmacked as he rolls his eyes, like I'm over reacting - which I'm _not. _"Don't worry, Bella. It was a joke. What's the harm in messing with them a little bit?"

"The _harm_, Edward, is that they already torment us enough, without you or me adding fuel to the fire. Don't you think?"

He sighs but has the decency to look guilty as he slowly makes his way towards me. He places his hands on my shoulders and bends his knees slightly, so he can look me straight in the eye. "Okay. That was stupid of me. I'm sorry."

I nod, but don't smile. "Okay. Just..." I sigh. "Just don't joke around with them like that. You don't know how bad they can get. I-I'd just rather not provoke them."

"Okay." He keeps his hands on my shoulders, keeps his knees bent as he continues to stare at me. That tension that's been a thick presence between us since Saturday returns in full force as the silence starts and stretches on. It's equally alarming as it is charged.

I clear my throat and step back, causing Edward's hands to fall away from my shoulders. "So," I begin, turning to sit on the edge of his bed before quickly deciding against it. Instead I change direction and sit in the yellow chair that's close to his desk, leaving Edward to sit either at his desk or in his bed. He chooses neither, remaining stood exactly where I left him. "What was going on earlier? Why are you soaked? And why is-"

I'm relieved when he interrupts me before I have to repeat the state of undress the devil-duo greeted us with. "While I was waiting for you, I'd planned to stay in here, out of the way of all of... _them_," he says, gesturing in the direction of his bedroom door while he pulls a look of despair. "But I went to get a drink and heard them talking. They planned to go exploring in the trees, wanting to find the stream you can sometimes hear from out front. When they asked if I wanted to join them, I said yes." He sees the raise of my brows and explains. "I didn't _want_ to go, but if I didn't then who knows what they'd have found." When he stops there, not explaining anything further, it takes me a few moments to understand his meaning.

"Oh," I say, my eyes widening. If he hadn't gone with them, then they may have stumbled upon my meadow. He went with them, suffered through their company, to keep them from my place. "Thank you. But that doesn't explain how you ended up drenched to the bone."

He sighs, and just before he starts explaining, he reaches behind his head and begins to pull his t-shirt off. It gets stuck because of how wet his skin must be, and if I wasn't suddenly so flustered, I'd be laughing at the sight of him struggling. As he finally pulls it over his head, I avert my gaze, heat rising in my cheeks. Why am I so embarrassed? I'll be seeing _much more_ of him if we go through with what we spoke of on Saturday. '_If', Bella? You mean 'when'._

He begins speaking again as he disappears into his bathroom, presumably to put his t-shirt in the laundry basket, meaning he has to raise his voice. "Well, we found that stream, which is actually pretty large and deep. It's more of a river, I guess. Anyway, all the girls started stripping, and soon the guys, too. It seemed all of them had come prepared for a bit of swimming. All except Jessica, of course. She stripped right down to her birthday suit." His shudder as he exits his bathroom racks his entire body - from what I see, anyway, before I once again avert my gaze. He enters his walk-in-wardrobe, topless, exiting moments later with a fresh, _dry _grey t-shirt. "All the guys, Rosalie and my sister had gotten in and I was just sat on a rock looking the other way. I messaged you when Lauren tried convincing me to get undressed and jump in." I giggle, thinking back to his frantic text message. He glares at me in a light-hearted manner. "I didn't get in, of course. So Lauren and Jessica thought it would be a great idea to force me in. They're just..." he pulls at his hair as he growls in frustration, dropping to his bed with a defeated slump. "Lauren snatched my phone out of my hand, so I went after her to get it back, which was so fucking stupid, 'cause as soon as I was close enough to the water, Jessica pushed me in, which is why I was all wet. I jumped out, grabbed my phone which Lauren had dropped in her laughter and bolted for the house. They were following me. I felt like I was in a horror movie."

I got lost in my hysterical laughter long before he finished his story, almost to the point where I'm barely still on the chair. By the end of his story, I'm slapping my thigh and tears threaten to escape the corners of my eyes. "I-I'm sorry," I manage to squeeze out through my laughter. "I just..." I laugh louder once more as the image that popped into my head with his last statement resurfaces. I quickly cover my mouth in an attempt to shut up. "I just imagined you being chased by Michael Myers in a neon pink bikini," I manage to say before bursting into a fresh round of laughter, this time actually falling from the chair.

I open my eyes when something wet lands on my face, and come face to face with a bodyless Edward. He's popped his head over the side of the bed and is looking down at me led on my back on his floor. "I'm glad you find my terrors so amusing," he mumbles, a smirk playing at his mouth.

My remaining chuckles are quick to seize when another drip falls on my face. "Dude, move," I moan, pushing at his forehead with the palm of my hand, not that it does much good in my goal, which was to move him. "I've already showered today. I don't need another one... Seriously," I try again when he doesn't move, "go dry your hair."

He shakes his head like a dog that's just been for a swim would, making me squeal as I'm showered in droplets of water. He moves away laughing, and I hurry to pull myself up off the floor. "Thanks a lot, asshole," I grumble as I wipe away the moisture from my face. "You could fill a glass with all that water."

He sits up quickly, pulling himself to the edge of the bed. "Do you want a drink?" he asks all of a sudden. _Excuse me?_

"Ew, no. Gross, Edward."

He looks confused for a second before realisation hits him. He visibly has to stifle his laugh as he stands. "My God, Bella, I didn't mean the water from my hair. You just reminded me that I hadn't offered you a drink yet," he says with an eye roll.

"_Ooooh_. Well then, yes please. Just some water will do."

He smirks at my request and bends down as if to shake his head again. I squeal and climb up to stand on his bed, ready to make an escape if he tries that shit again. He laughs and holds his hands up in surrender, backing out of the room wordlessly.

Only once he's completely gone do I let my guard down and drop to the bed with a sigh of relief.

He returns less than five minutes letter. "Any sign of anyone?" I ask after thanking him for my glass of water, which I take a sip of as I await his answer.

He shakes his head as he takes a sip from his own glass. "No," he begins once swallowing. "I think they're up in Alice's room. Or maybe they're back out at the stream." My eyes widen. "Don't worry. It's no where near your-"

"Edward." We both look alarmed, eyes wide as our heads snap to the door. Alice is stood in his bedroom doorway, which he obviously didn't lock on his way back in. "We're all going to a movie in Port Angeles. Will you tell Mom and Dad that I'll be out for dinner tonight?"

"Why can't you tell them yourself?"

"Because you're here to do it for me," is all she says before briskly turning and walking away, leaving his door wide open.

He huffs and gets up to close the door with a loud BANG! I swear I hear him mumble "Bitch," under his breath on his way over.

I turn to place my half-full glass of water on his bedside table. When I turn back, I am gazing into vivid green eyes. Edward is much closer than he was a moment ago, now sat directly beside me on the bed.

The tension is back... along with something new: the realisation that we're in his home, in his _bedroom,_ and we're all alone. For hours.

* * *

**A/N: What do you think? Don'the hesitate to leave a review! Did you expect their friendship to develop to more in this way? I assure you, I **_always_ planned for it to go this way. It's part of the development of my story. I'm really nervous for Friday's update. I'll see you then.


	36. Chapter 36: 'You're so beautiful' (BPOV)

**A/N: Hi all! Again, I didn't upload on the day I promised. And again, I'm sorry. I'm only a day late so I hope you can all forgive me.**

**I am nervous to upload this one. Like, _really _nervous. Remember a few chapters ago, when I said there had been a certain chapter I was struggling to write and it set me back a bit in my writing schedule? Well, this is that chapter. I wrote and rewrote it about 4 times, hating every one of my attempts. Until this one. I'm pleased with how this turned out, but that doesn't stop me feeling nervous at all.**

**This is, as I'm sure you've worked out based on the last couple chapters, a chapter with a lemon. It's my first one. Ever. I was surprised by how difficult it is to write these kind of scenes, especially as I've read so many of them in other fics.**

**Anyway, please read the bottom A/N. I'll see you at the bottom. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter.**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously_

_I turn to place my half-full glass of water on his bedside table. When I turn back, I am gazing into vivid green eyes. Edward is much closer than he was a moment ago, now sat directly beside me on the bed._

_The tension is back... along with something new: the realisation that we're in his home, in his _bedroom, _and we're all alone. For hours._

Chapter Thirty-six: 'You're so beautiful' (Bella POV)

_Wednesday 28 June 2017_

We sit and just stare at each other for a little while, neither of us wanting to break the silence, neither of us knowing _how _to break the silence.

The tension that has been a heavy presence surrounding us since Saturday is as thick as ever, but it's more _heated _than all those other times. Edward has sat so close to me that our shoulders are less than an inch apart, but still not touching.

The silence in the room continues and continues, the tension growing more and more prominent as time passes. Our eyes haven't strayed from each other's, and I know that he has the same thought process as me right now; he's waiting for me to do something, just as I am waiting for him to do something.

Eventually, and I don't know who does so first, our eyes part, straying to the others' lips. Mine jump back up to meet his, before straying once again.

The next thing to happen, I _know_ we do simultaneously. There is no doubt in my mind who moves first, simply because we both lean in at the exact same moment. Our mouths meet with a clash that should probably have been painful, if we both weren't so focused on what we were doing.

Which is kissing.

There's no hesitation like the first time. No timid, chaste kiss and then separation initially. From the get go, it's heated, our mouths opening instantly so our tongues can meet in that dance that's not so foreign anymore, the one that I've been wanting since Saturday.

I bring my hand up to the side of his neck as Edward's arms move around my waist. Sometime later, I don't know exactly how long later, we fall down to our sides across his bed, lips still tightly locked.

It's an almost identical experience to that first kiss on Saturday... until Edward's hands move from their safe place at my waist. The one attached to the arm that's trapped underneath me moves higher up my back, toward the space between my shoulder blades, which he uses to press our chests closer together. I'm so enthralled by what's happening that my mind doesn't register the pain of him pressing the bruise that's there. The other hand travels down my side, past my hip until it's resting on my outer thigh.

I'm pretty sure he can feel the beating of my heart with the way it's trying to beat out of my chest. I think I can feel the harsh thud of his, too.

I mirror his confidence and begin moving my hands too, and soon we are both tracing each other's bodies with our hands, feeling every curve and line we can while still clothed.

Very soon, that isn't enough. My hands, which have been making a repetitive cycle of his torso then back then shoulders then returning to torso, slip underneath his t-shirt on their next trip back up his front. Edward's hands falter for a second before he becomes more urgent. _Everything_ becomes more urgent - the kissing, the hands. Everything.

Just as I did to him earlier, Edward mimics my actions, tentatively slipping his hands underneath my Queen band-tee.

We're back to safe zones for less than a minute when we first venture under the clothes, but that's quickly corrected and we're back to how we were a minute before. As I draw my hands up Edward's warm, and slightly muscular back for the third cycle, I don't go back down. Instead I continue pulling up until Edward has no choice but to lean his face away from mine so I can lift it over his head.

He has to pull away completely, sitting up a little straighter for just enough time to get it completely off before he throws it somewhere across the room and falls back down beside me.

When his hands go for my face instead of my body, my heart misses a beat, wondering why he has that apprehensive look in his now lustful, dark green eyes. Why has he stopped?

"How far?" he whispers. It's the first thing either of us has said since his sister left the room. His hands are cupping my face as his eyes remain unnervingly locked on mine. I gulp back the nerves that have been a constant pit in my stomach pretty much since Saturday, mentally trying to rush an answer. I don't want to talk. I want to continue, and I don't want to stop again... a thought which leads me to my answer after a long, silent pause.

"If you want to," I begin, stopping to inhale deeply, "then all the way," I whisper.

At Edward's eager nod, I sit up and yank my t-shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. Heat rises in my cheeks as I turn to face Edward, but that's quickly forgotten when I see that he's pouting. "What's wrong?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

"I wanted to do that," he sulks. My answering laughter draws his eyes south of my face... to my now exposed torso - well, _almost _exposed. My light blue bra is all that conceals any part of my upper body. The heat in my face intensifies as Edward's staring lasts longer than a mild glance.

I look down at myself, checking it is actually my fairly new light blue bra and not that white one I've been meaning to replace for some time now. _Wouldn't _that_ be embarrassing_. A slice of terror cuts through me when I look down at myself. Not because I have the wrong bra on - which I don't, thankfully - but because laying at two different points on my chest, is my locket and my key necklace.

Edward's hand comes into my vision as he reaches out to gently trace the chain that houses my key. _Uh-oh._ He follows it from my shoulder and all the way down to the key, inbetween my breasts. If I wasn't so preoccupied by the frightening prospect of Edward's stubborn nature coming out to play as he demands what the key is for, then I'd be rivetingly focused on the feel of his fingers brushing the inner curve of my breasts right now.

"What's this?" he asks, light curiosity in his tone. I quickly reach behind my neck to unclasp the locket before removing both chains from around my neck.

"Nothing," I mutter as I turn to place them both beside my glass of water on the nightstand. I turn back towards Edward and am thoroughly relieved when I see no stubbornness or hurt at being dismissed. _If I wasn't almost completely topless, then I'm sure it would have been a different story_. In any other circumstance, he wouldn't have let that go. I take full advantage of this current circumstance.

"Should we...?" I ask, drawing his attention back up to my face, reluctantly it would seem, as I trail off and motion with my head towards the top of his bed. So far, we've been sprawled out across the width of his bed. He looks toward the pillows, then back to me, then down to my chest, before he raises his eyes back up to mine again. He visibly gulps before nodding.

I stand and wait for him to move, but he doesn't. I close my eyes and inhale, taking in a deep breath before I reach down for the fastenings of my skinny jeans. I open my eyes when I hear movement, and see Edward rushing to stand. Through all of my nerves and excitement and fear, there's a hint of amusement as I watch Edward stumble rather ungracefully around to the opposite side of the bed. The amusement flees rapidly as Edward mirrors my movements and reaches for the fly of his pants, which he must have changed when he went into his wardrobe earlier, because the ones he has on now are a lighter shade of blue denim, and complete dry.

We both busy ourselves with undressing down to our underwear, though neither of us removes our gaze from the other. The air feels so thick it's like you could cut it with a knife. We stand and stare at each other's underwear clad bodies for several moments. My eyes run from the very tip of his out of control hair, all the way down to his knees which is where my visual is cut off by the bed. My gaze stalls on it's way back up, pausing at his white boxers, and the rather large bulge that's as obvious as the lust in his eyes as he too looks over all he can see of me.

I try not to let the fact that he's seeing me almost naked bother me in any way, try not to let it ignite the heat that has a habit of spreading across my face at the worst of times. There's a brief moment of panic as I think of him seeing all of me, and I do a mental check of myself. Are there any bruises he may question? Crap! Why didn't I think of that sooner? I have one between my shoulder blades, though it's not too bad. I haven't checked it in the mirror in a few days though. A faded yellow is on my upper thigh from the same day, but it's almost completely gone now. I don't think it's really visible to be honest. Satisfied that I don't have anything too concerning, my panic eases.

Edward is the first to move but I quickly follow his lead, pulling back the covers of his bed and sliding between the sheets. _Wow, his bed is comfy! _Once I'm led down with my head on his pillow, I pull the covers all the way up to my chin. I remain on my back, staring up at the ceiling as Edward slides into the right side of the bed and gets comfy. Once he's still, I keep upward facing, like the coward that I am.

What now? I try to placate me nerves with the knowledge that the first time is awkward and scary for _everyone._ It's not just me.

I startle at the brush of Edward's hand against my side, practically jumping off of the mattress. "Relax," I hear him whisper. I take a deep breath and finally turn onto my side, effectively drawing myself closer to Edward, who is already on his side. His hand slips round to my back, where he traces a light pattern across my bare skin.

"Please tell me I'm not the only nervous one," I whisper. The side of his mouth pulls up into a crooked smirk.

"No, you're not. 'Cause I'm nervous, too." We just stare at each other for a few moments. "Can I kiss y-"

I don't let him finish that question.

I dive forward, melding my lips to his in a passionate kiss. I don't know if it's because everything from the shoulder down for either one of us is underneath the covers, but we are suddenly much more brazen in our hand movements. Our curious wandering has turned into all out pawing at each other.

Everything is surrounded in this haze of sorts, all of it a blur that I'm only barely keeping track of. My left leg is now hooked over Edward's calf while his hands travel freely across my back. My hands are following no particular path; it's just a random trail across everything above his waistline.

Soon, this isn't enough, and without too much thought as to what it is I'm doing, I pull away from a protesting Edward and reach behind me to unhook my bra. My left hand, with its damn splint, isn't much help, but I manage in relatively quick time. I throw it somewhere behind me and quickly turn back to Edward, pulling our chests flush together before he can begin staring at me for yonks like he did earlier.

The feeling of our naked chests pressed together has my heart picking up to a dangerous speed, but I don't have a lot of time to dwell on that because Edward doesn't waste time in mashing our mouths back together.

And a second later we're back in that frenzied, passionate wrestle of tongues and tangle of bodies from moments ago.

I'm rolled onto my back by Edward, who rests his weight on his elbows as he settles himself inbetween my legs, which seemed to part off their own accord to accommodate him. My hands spread across his back as his dive into my hair.

My lack of air makes itself known, unfortunately, and I have to wrench my mouth away from Edward's to drag some into my lungs. Edward, who seems to need no air whatsoever, doesn't detach his mouth from me completely, and instead trails kisses across my jaw and down my neck.

He continues down, past my collar bone, before pausing just above my left breast, his lips hovering over my battering heart. I feel his smile as it stretches across his lips. Without moving his head, he looks up at me from beneath his lashes. "Your heart is beating really fast," he whispers.

I smile sheepishly, red blooming across my cheeks... and down my chest, which recaptures Edward's attention. My heart, if it's even possible, picks up speed as his gaze travels down to my chest.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters quietly. I roll my eyes, not expecting the sharp glare he sends my way... seeing as his focus was firmly on my bare breasts only seconds ago. "Don't do that. You _are_."

Our eyes lock and neither of us break the connection. The truth in his eyes is palpable, and the blush that fills my cheeks and spreads down my chest _this_ time isn't due to embarrassment. It's caused by delight. He _really_ thinks I'm beautiful.

I lick my lips to moisten my suddenly dry mouth, before wrapping my right hand around the back of Edward's neck to drag his mouth back down to mine. He doesn't waste any time in moving further down my chest again, and this time, I can't find it in me to feel embarrassed. I'm too lost in all these new but _very _welcome feelings and emotions.

I'm _so _lost, in fact, that it doesn't even register in my mind when Edward passes the place above my heart he reached earlier as he travels further down, gently kissing my flesh... not until his lips wrap around my left nipple with only a slight detectable hesitation. I gasp, my hands threading into his still damp hair tightly. Shocked, my only intention is to pull him away, but when he sucks on the tight bud, I use my deathly grip on his hair to hold him to my chest as I arch my back and let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

_Oh God_.

I let out a shaky breath and try to gulp back another moan, but that is a futile attempt when Edward uses the hand that hasn't just slid underneath my back to begin fondling my neglected right breast. "Oh God," I whisper aloud this time, along with another moan.

Edward releases his own answering moan and then does something that even _he _didn't mean to do - or so the freezing of every single muscle in his body tells me. As he moans, he adds more pressure to _all_ of his actions, and then grinds his hips into mine.

He isn't the only one to freeze. I do, too, for two reasons. One, because I didn't expect to feel _that_. I mean, I'm not stupid. I know how all this works. I know that him getting... _hard_ is what's supposed to happen, but up until that moment, he'd done an expert job of keeping his now obvious arousal to himself. And two, because I didn't expect it to feel so _good._

My breath gets lost in my throat as Edward's gaze slowly travels back up my torso and neck, until our eyes are once again locked. Now it's Edward's turn to be rosy cheeked. With his face hovering closely over mine, his elbows back to being braced on either side of my head, he seems to search my gaze for something before taking a deep breath and grinding himself against me again.

I let out another unintentional moan. Then he does it again and it isn't a moan of pleasure I release this time, but more a groan of frustration. Each time he lowers his boxer-clad erection to the increasing warmth between my thighs, he's quick to pull himself back off again, as if he's testing the waters. He goes to do it again, and it seems I've lost all control over my body -_ or maybe I haven't _\- because in a totally instinctual move, I lift my right leg and hook it over his hip, keeping him aligned with me.

I watch as his eyes, which haven't strayed from mine, widen. His mouth drops open as I rotate my hips slightly. I smirk at the low moan that comes from him. _Good_. He has been far too silent, while I've been here moaning like a shameless hussy.

I do it again, at the same time Edward rubs his hardness against me. We moan simultaneously and repeat the actions again and again until we have a strong rhythm going. Our sounds of pleasure are expelled into each other's mouths as I pull Edward's head back down to mine, our kisses much more passionate than ever before in our progressively frenzied state.

There's this unknown _feeling _low in my gut, and it's building, becoming stronger and stronger and more intense with each pass of Edward's member over my center. My breaths are quickening, eyes closed, my moans becoming louder.

And then it just stops. Or rather, _he_ stops.

I open my eyes as I breathe heavily into the small space between us. Edward has his eyes clenched shut, a pained look on his face. "What's wrong?" I ask nervously, wondering if I did something.

His green eyes flash open, and he tries to offer me a reassuring smile, but it isn't very reassuring. "We just have to stop for a moment, or we won't get much further," is all he says. My brows furrow, confused.

And then it clicks and I blush. "Oh," I breathe, understanding and relief flooding me. _Phew. I didn't do anything wrong_. I patiently wait for Edward to calm himself, and while I wait I think. And then worry. There's something I'm missing... something I've forgotten. I try my hardest to figure it out, and when I eventually do, I gasp loudly. Edward tilts his head, silently asking what's wrong. "Do you have a, um, a..." I can't finish that question, which is utterly ridiculous after all that we've just done and will most likely be doing soon, depending on his answer. _How could I forget about protection? I swear I have no brain cells sometimes._

"A condom?" he asks me, his voice sounding much more in control now. I nod wordlessly. "Yes, I do."

I break my gaze from his and look down his body, which he's holding above mine with his hands resting on either side of my head. My eyes trail down his chest, his flat stomach and to his boxers. I stop my wandering gaze there, and after a brief pause of uncertainty, I brush my hand tentatively down his chest. When my fingertips graze the edge of the waistband of his boxers, I feel the muscles low in his stomach tense and react to my touch.

Without moving my hand, I glance back up at Edward who is as still as a statue and has a measured look in his face. "Shall we...?" I trail off as I slip barely the tip of my index finger beneath the waistband of his boxers, and run it from hip to hip.

He nods a little too eagerly, causing me to giggle lightly. His answering smirk is surprisingly calming as he pulls away, moving back to the other side of the bed. We pretend to pay no attention to the other as we remove our last items of clothing, but really we are both highly aware of every movement the other makes. After dropping my panties to the floor beside the bed, I flatten myself to the mattress, drawing the covers back up to my chin as Edward turns away. I hear the draw of the nightstand on his side being opened and closed, and then Edward is on his back beside me.

I turn my head and blatantly watch as Edward rips open the foil packet, but, though I'm highly curious, I don't allow myself to peep as Edward's hands disappear beneath the covers for many long seconds. It's a painfully long wait, or seems to be at least. He audibly inhales before turning his head to offer me a small smile.

My heart is beating at a perilous rate as he rolls himself over to lie on top of me. He doesn't allow his full weight to rest on me as he once again braces his hands at either side of my head, but I can still feel the warmth of his skin as his body settles over mine, as well as the thudding of his own heart. When the head of his cock brushes against the junction of my thighs for only a split second, I startle, my breaths quickening as I close my eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" Edward whispers to me.

I open my eyes and cup his face with my hands, placing my slightly trembling palms against his cheeks. I want him to be sure and see the honesty in my eyes as I answer with a firm: "I'm sure."

He doesn't need to search my face any longer, and lowers his head, gently placing his lips against mine. I eagerly take hold of his initiative and thrust my tongue into his mouth. Nothing happens down below for the next couple minutes as we simply kiss, slowly building up the momentum of this simple act.

Though I'm thoroughly engrossed in the tangling of our tongues, I am fully aware as Edward slowly lowers his hips to mine. This time, when his erection brushes against my slick flesh, I don't startle. In fact, I welcome it, opening my legs a little wider. We both intake a simultaneous breath of air, our lips momentarily breaking apart as the tip of him enters me.

"Jesus..." he breathes. I remain silent, trying to get accustomed to this strange new feeling. He continues pressing forward, sliding further in inch by inch. I feel like I'm being stretched... and it isn't the most pleasant feeling in the world. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as a burning feeling joins the stretching, but I don't close my eyes. I keep my gaze locked firmly on Edward's face, which is currently beautiful with his eyes clenched shut, mouth partly open, and slightly flushed cheeks.

He stops suddenly, though I think I know why, and opens his eyes to look down at me. "I-I'm sorry, but this is meant to hurt," he says quietly, but I'm already nodding before he's finished talking.

"I know," I whisper, briefly closing my eyes. When I open them again, Edward's gazing down at me with a look of hesitation, like he's not sure whether he should go on. "Just do it quick, so the painful part is over and done with," I say with as much confidence as I can find.

He nods and, careful not to jostle the joining of our bodies, he lowers his head to press a soft kiss to my forehead. I smile as calmly as I can at him, reaching up to grip his shoulders just as he pulls his hips back and then thrusts forward quickly. As he breaks the barrier that resembles my innocence, he lowers his torso completely onto mine, so our bodies are flush together. This I'm grateful for, because I try to muffle my gasp at the sharp pain that courses through me by clutching at him. I press my face into the crook of his neck as my eyes clench shut, concealing the uninvited tears that have sprung to my eyes.

Edward stays still, thankfully. Though I can feel the struggle he's having due to the trembling of his arms that have me caged against the bed. "Are you okay?" he whispers, his struggle evident by the strain in his voice.

I nod, and pull my head away from his neck to look him in the eyes. He looks concerned as he gazes upon me. He lowers his lips to my cheek and kisses away a stray tear. "Yes," I eventually whisper back. "Just go slow." He nods his assent and then pulls his hips back. The stretching feeling has been dissipating the longer he has been nestled within me, but the burning is still very much present.

He pauses before pushing forward, a rush of air leaving him and washing over my face. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he pulls back and pushes forward again, this time with a quiet moan. He repeats this action, along with a louder moan. He pulls back and thrusts forward. Again. And again. Slowly, as I asked. In... Out... In... Out... Slowly.

In no time at all, the burning feeling dissipates too, until its replaced with a faint pleasurable feeling. There's still some discomfort, though I'm pretty sure that's because this is my first time. The discomfort will disappear eventually, too. The pleasure slowly builds, and just after a minute has passed of Edward's slow thrusts in and out, my first moan escapes me. This seems to spur Edward on, as he groans low and loud, and picks up the speed of his hips just a bit.

He drops his head beside mine, so our cheeks are pressed together. "Fuck, Bella," he hisses quietly into my ear. I just grip my arms around him tighter, wordless, but not soundless as I start moving my hips along with him, my rotations growing a little more confident with each passing second. This just makes Edward lose it even more, and he picks up his pace, no longer moving slowly but not being rough either.

I can feel his body trembling against mine, his arms shaking. I tuck my head back into his neck and press an open-mouthed kiss to his sweaty skin. "I... Oh Shit... I can't..." he stutters, and then he groans the loudest he's groaned yet and tenses in my arms, coming to a complete halt. I moan quietly as I feel his cock twitch inside me, as he shakes above me. I take pleasure in knowing that _he_ found pleasure.

Once his trembling stops, Edward rolls off of me, landing on his back beside me. We both stare up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. "Wow," he releases with his next breath.

Wow, indeed.

What was I worried about again? This friends with benefits thing was the best idea I've ever had!

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**A/N: Soooo... what do you guys think of my first lemon? I tried to take into consideration that this is their first time. So it's meant to be a bit awkward. And remember they're not dating, they're just friends experiencing these things together for the first time, so there is no declarations of love... yet ;) And remember, they're 16 years old, so there are no 'bulging biceps' and 'washboard abs'; Edward's only _just _turned 16!**

**Please, leave me a review or send me a PM with what you thought. As I said at the top, this is my first lemon, and I need feedback to know whether I should write another one. I do plan for there to be more, but if you guys think this is shit and I shouldn't bother, then I'll just leave them out but indicate when there has been one. If you think this was good/okay/acceptable/_whatever_, then I'll include more.**

**Next chapter is Edward's POV, and it follows straight on from this one.**

**Thanks for reading, hopefully you enjoyed and I'll see you Monday!**


	37. Chapter 37: 'Next time' (Edward POV)

**A/N: Apologies for missing Monday's update. It was missed for health reasons. I'm also late with Wednesday's for the same reasons. I want my chapters to be the best they can be, so I wanted to make sure I felt well enough to edit this to a high standard and do a proper job, rather than a half ass job just to get it out to you guys on time. I know I tend to do this a lot, and I am sorry. I always deliver _eventually _though, don't I?!**

**There is no _Previously_ for this chapter because it's a change in POV, but it still leads straight on from the last chapter. Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed; puts my nerves at ease!**

**Anyway, let's hear from Edward, shall we?**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Thirty-seven: 'Next time' (Edward POV)

_Wednesday 28 June 2017_

"Wow," I breathe.

That was... it was... wow.

Sex is _way_ better then I expected. I've heard my fair share of stories from other guys my age, mostly in the locker rooms at school. But _nothing _can prepare you for actually participating in the act yourself.

Wow.

When Bella proposed this idea to me, I honestly had no clue whether she - _we _\- would actually go through with it. I mean, it was a pretty crazy, and completely unexpected, idea. An idea that had, and still has, the potential to be detrimental to our friendship. I was skeptical, even after we had that awesome kiss, my first kiss, in that beautiful meadow that she took me to. My family and I are the reason she's spent so long away from that place and I intend to be the reason she visits it from now on.

Her idea, and my agreement to said idea, has been the only thing on my mind since then. I know I've felt _attracted_ to Bella for a while now, but I had no clue she felt the same, and I one hundred percent did not expect her to want to _act_ on that attraction. But she did want to. Without realising it sooner, so did I.

And now we have.

And I can't stop grinning.

I can hear her breathing calming down a bit now, the same as me, though mine is still a little heavier than hers.

I feel lethargic after my release, but manage to twist my head until my cheek is resting on the pillow and I'm looking at her - well, the side of her.

She has my sheets covering her breasts, with her arms pinning it down at her sides. I can't really tell what she's thinking from here. She's suspiciously silent... and she hasn't acknowledged me since I, _reluctantly, _rolled off of her.

This is what I have been most afraid of since Saturday. In all the time I've been thinking about this day since Saturday, the thing I've worried about the most is how we'd be _after _having sex. I didn't want it to affect the strong friendship we've established over the months I've been here, and I most definitely didn't want there to be any awkwardness between us afterward.

But I fear this, Bella's silence, is the beginning of that dreaded awkwardness. _Please don't let that be true._

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly, as if speaking any louder is forbidden right now. My voice seems to startle her, and she jumps just as she did when I touched her waist after we first got settled in my bed. Her wide brown eyes, which are glowing at this very moment, a honeypot of emotions swirling within them, meet mine. I'm relieved to see no regret or sadness in them.

She stays silent and I contemplate asking her the question again. After settling my hand on the one of hers that is closest to me, I inhale to do just that, but pause when I see her brow furrow. She's confused. About what?

"Did you just ask me if I'm okay?" she questions incredulously. I nod hesitantly. A slow smile begins to pull at her lips, and I feel instantly at ease, especially when her smile is accompanied by her signature blush - a blush I _now _know spreads further down her body than I ever realised. "Edward, I'm better than okay. Really. I'm..." she doesn't finish that sentence, going back to silence.

A thought occurs to me now that I'm free of my post-coital haze, my breathing now back to its usual tempo. And along with the thought comes guilt.

"B-but you didn't..." I trail off, feeling a terrible mixture of guilt, shame and embarrassment. Her eyes refocus on me.

"Didn't what?" she asks. I don't know how to answer that without furthering my embarrassment... which is stupid after all that we've just done together.

"You know..." I whipser, trying to say it without actually saying it. She stares at me cluelessly. I sigh heavily, resigning to the fact that I'll actually have to say it... or... or _suggest _it without _actually_ saying it? That could work, right? "You didn't... find... any... pleasure," I stumble through my explanation, feeling equal parts ridiculous and pathetic. For fucks sake, Edward. You were just inside her, and you can't verbally explain that what you mean is she didn't climax?

Bella laughs, quite obviously disbelieving. "Edward, I felt pleasure. Don't you worry about that," she scoffs, surprisingly _without_ her enticing blush.

_I know you did. Your moans were a clear indication of that._

"No. What I mean, Bella, is that you didn't..." I huff. "You-"

I'm interrupted by her giggle, but I don't feel hurt that she's laughing at me. I'm just delighted that she's amused and not as embarrassed as I feel. She rolls onto her side, keeping the sheets tucked under her arms as she moves closer and lays her head on my pillow, so close that our noses almost touch. "Are you trying to ask if I'm okay because I didn't... finish?" she says. _Why couldn't I find the words for it as easily as that? _I nod stupidly, my eyes rapidly jumping from her eyes to her lips. She giggles again and shakes her head mildly. "I know I didn't, but I really hadn't expected to."

I pull back, preparing to ask what she means by that, but her hand coming up to clamp over my mouth prevents that from happening. "Edward, it was my first time. And it was _your_ first time. I did do some... _research_ before we did this, and to be honest, I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did."

Okay... I try not to feel too hurt by that. But I know she's right. The first time for _anyone_ is meant to be quick, and often painful for the woman. I'm quite proud that she felt any pleasure at all. I pull her hand away from my mouth, holding it gently to my chest; it's the one that she fractured.

I narrow my eyes at her and she pulls back a bit, a wary look on her face. "Next time you will," I vow, not completely explaining what it is she will do because I know she'll understand. Her eyes widen and I'm once again graced with the sight of her cheeks turning rosy.

"So there will be a next time, then?" she asks. Is she for real? I bloody well hope so!

"Absolutely. It would appear I need more practise... or so someone has brought to my attention," I say, not holding back my smirk as I release her hand to poke at her side teasingly.

She throws her head back and laughs as she tries to pull away. "Edward... _Stop_!" she wheezes out between bursts of laughter. I'm chuckling, too. She pushes my hand away and eventually rolls to the other side of the bed in an attempt to get out of my reach. She almost rolls off of the bed and that's when I stop tormenting her.

She stays on that side of the bed, a wary look in her face as she glances over at me. I hold my hands up, a sign of surrender, and she eventually slides back over. She lies back down on her side, her head once again resting on my pillow. "Going back to our conversation," she begins, her eyes twinkling above her natural smile, "they _do _say practise makes perfect." A light blush covers her cheeks as I smirk at her words. She brings her face closer to mine, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I cup the side of her face with my hand as she opens her mouth, allowing my tongue entrance.

We kiss for a few minutes before she pulls away, both of us left breathless. "Not now, though," she says with a sweet giggle. My confusion must be showing on my face, because she once again blushes. _My goodness, I don't think her cheeks have gone back to their normal colour all morning_. "I'm... _sore_," she whispers, lowering her eyes.

My smile, which has been a permanent fixture on my face for a while now, falls away. I clear my throat, gaining her attention. "I'm sorry I hurt you," I tell her quietly. She leans forward to press a chaste peck to my lips.

"Don't apologise. It's not your fault. The pain was inevitable," she replies. To my delight, she kisses me again briefly - I could definitely get used to her doing that whenever she likes - before pulling back entirely, her arms hugging my bedding to her chest. "Can I use your bathroom?" she asks. I nod silently, gesturing toward the closed door across the room.

She offers a smile in thanks and slips out from beneath the covers, rushing to slip on her Queen band-tee that ended up hung on the back of my desk chair when she threw it haphazardly earlier. I laugh, shaking my head at her antics as she runs to my bathroom door while pulling the hem of the t-shirt down, like her virtue is in danger.

As soon as my bathroom door clicks shut, with Bella closed inside, I quickly dispose of the condom. Finally.

As I head for my walk-in wardrobe that's beside the bathroom, I hear the shower turn on and instantly start growing hard... again.

I stop outside the bathroom door, weighing up my options. Would it be rude to just walk in there? Would she be mad at me if I did? I think about it for longer than I realise, because sooner than expected, I hear the shower being turned off and I quickly move away from the door, disappearing into the wardrobe.

I'm staring down at my crumpled bed, dressed in only a pair of cut-off sweatpants when Bella exits the bathroom, wrapped in one of my towels and gripping her shirt in her clenched hands. Her hair is piled on top of her head, exposing a red mark that I must have left on the side of her neck. _Oops_. I gulp down the sudden lump in my throat, but don't avert my eyes. She smiles tenderly as she walks quickly to the left side of the bed where all her clothes are and sits on the edge of it.

She dresses silently. I should turn away, and I fully intend to do so, until I catch sight of the discolouration of green and brown that's in between her shoulder blades. I'm frozen as I watch her quietly reattach the two necklaces around her neck. I am dying to know what that key I've never seen before unlocks, but now, I'm even more desperate to know how she got that bruise.

She's in her underwear now and sits back down after slipping into her skinny jeans. Off their own accord, my legs move me toward her. Before I know it, I'm knelt on the bed behind her, my hand reaching out to lightly brush against the bruise. "What happened here?" I ask quietly. I feel her entire body tense and hear her breath hitch.

"Nothing," she squeaks out, rushing to release her hair from its tie, so it tumbles over my hand. I simply sweep it to one side, so I can see the bruise still.

"Did I...?" I trail off, suddenly mortified with the idea that maybe _I_ did that to her earlier. Was I rough?

She quickly stands, and after slipping her t-shirt back on, she turns to kneel in front of me. "No, Edward. You didn't hurt me. I swear." I believe her and nod, but something on my face must show her that I still want to know how she got that rather large bruise. She sighs. "It's an old bruise. I... I got it when I did this," she explains, holding up her fractured wrist to show what 'this' is.

"You mean the door...?" I ask uncertainly, trailing off.

"Like I told you, it was windy that day." That's all she seems to want to say on the matter, because she stands from my bed and begins straightening it out... with me still knelt in the center of it. I quickly hop off and help her. I decide, while we work together to remake my bed - _I need to change these sheets before Bev is next in here _\- that I believe her. It _does_ seem like something that would happen to Bella. I've come to learn over the course of our friendship that she can be rather clumsy.

"It's only lunch time. You hungry?" she asks me once we're done.

I nod. "Sure, I could eat. We _have_ just worked up an appetite," I say, waggling my eyebrows. She shakes her head with a badly concealed smirk - blushing, not surprisingly. "The diner?" I ask. She nods. "Cool, let me just have a quick shower," I say, already heading towards the bathroom. I feel icky and sweaty - though for an entirely good reason.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

Bella is gone from my bedroom when I re-enter it fifteen minutes later. Her bag and glass of water are gone, too. I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, toweling my hair dry. I grab my own glass of water, and pocket my cell phone and wallet before heading for my bedroom door.

I freeze with my hand on the doorknob when I think I hear the faint sound of my piano playing. I smile and quietly open my bedroom door, coming to a second stop when the sound of a beautiful, soft voice reaches my ears. I start toward the music, creeping down the hall stealthily and peeping my head round the wall, into the great room. Bella is sat at my piano, her hair once again tied up into a messy bun as she plays _and sings_ a song I've never heard before.

"_The struggles I'm facing_  
_The chances I'm taking_  
_Sometimes might knock me down but_  
_No I'm not breaking_  
_I may not know it_  
_But these are the moments that_  
_I'm going to remember most yeah_  
_Just got to keep going_  
_And I_  
_I gotta be strong_  
_Just keep pushing on, 'cause_  
_There's -_

-Oh! Edward! I didn't realise you were ready," she exclaims, blushing redder than ever as she stops mid-sentence when she sees me. She quickly closes the piano lid over. I walk toward her, still speechless at hearing her sing - which she can do _extremely_ well.

I'm still approaching as she tries to slyly sneak a book from the piano stand into her bag. "Woah, woah. What is that?" I ask, finding my voice as I plop myself down beside her on the bench.

"N-nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why are you trying to hide it from me?" I ask, raising a brow.

"I'm not."

"Good. Then I can have a look."

"No," she says weakly, holding her now closed bag protectively to her side.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because it's mine. And it's personal." I have nothing to say to that... except...

"So you write songs?" I ask. She hesitates before nodding weakly. "Like me," I assess with a grin. "Did you write that one you were just singing?" I ask. She nods, once again silent. "It was really good. And you have a beautiful voice, Bella." She flushes and smiles gently, whispering a barely audible 'thanks'. "So... can I hear it all? From the beginning?" I ask, trying to keep the hope out of my voice. As stubborn as I know she thinks I am, I won't push her on this if she refuses. I know how scary sharing something so personal, such as songwriting, can be. Though I felt nothing but at peace when I let Bella see my unorganised collection of compositions on her first day here.

Her mouth drops open and she blinks at me several times before clearing her throat. "Um," she tries to speak but gets stuck and clears her throat again. "Maybe some other time," is all she says. I nod, accepting that. I stand and gesture toward the stairs.

"You ready to go?" I ask. She remains seated for a few seconds, looking a little shocked by my non-stubborn reaction to her brush off. I don't address her surprise in any way, and ask her again. She wordlessly gets up this time and follows me up the stairs.

For the rest of the afternoon, I marvel at how easy it is for us to slip back into the natural, friendly bond we've built since my arrival in April. There's no awkwardness, no destruction to our friendship. It's just as it was _before_ today.

Well, that's not entirely true, because now I know what she looks like underneath her baggy, dark clothes. Now I know what she looks like underneath _me_, and I have every intention of reacquainting myself with those images._Soon._

But for now, I'm happy to sit opposite her in this booth at Forks' Diner while she munches her way through a burger and laughs as she tells me about something funny Alan said to her during her last visit to his florist on Sunday, when she was purchasing some flowers on her way to the cemetery to see her dad. For now, I'm happy just being Edward and Bella: friends.

* * *

**A/N: I'm rubbish at poems and writing lyrics - trust me, I've tried - so that's why I've used an actual song for one of Bella's compositions. The snippet in this chapter is the second verse (because Edward walked in half way through Bella singing it) of 'The Climb' by Miley Cyrus.**

**What did you think? Don't forget to let me know! Thanks for being so patient with me. I really do intend to post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but you know how life can be.**

**I'll be back on Friday with another Bella POV. Bye for now!**


	38. Chapter 38: 'You conniving snoop' (BPOV)

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Enjoy :)**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Thirty-eight: 'You conniving snoop' (Bella POV)

_Thursday 6 July 2017_

I don't get lie-ins any days of the week during academic months, and definitely not on _any _weekends of the year, so weekdays in the summer are my only opportunity really.

Unfortunately, today I wake at 6:45AM, and it's all thanks to the torrential downpour of rain that's currently pelting against my window. _No lie-in for me today_. I groan my frustration aloud, rolling onto my front - then I wince.

I quickly pull myself up so I'm now on my knees, with my arms wrapped around my midsection, feeling hella sorry for myself. _Ow!_ I hate moving whilst half asleep, therefore not fully aware or alert enough to be cautious.

I lift the hem of the t-shirt I slept in last night up until it's bunched beneath my breasts, and hesitantly look down in hopes that the ghastly sight from when I checked last night has changed at all. It hasn't. The bruising that covers most of my ribs on the left side hasn't changed _at all_ since last night.

I know the visual process a contusion goes through as well as a Christian knows the Lord's Prayer. I know that, typically, within the first week, a bruise changes colour from it's initial red, to blue and purple and eventually green. The last week is the yellow/brown stage, until it finally fades from view completely and is all healed. And knowing that I first got this bruise less than a week ago - exactly five days ago - it's understandable that it's still a very bold purple/blue. It sucks... now for more reasons than I had a little over a week ago.

I hadn't really taken into consideration how my home life would affect mine and Edward's new... _development_ in our friendship. There's no way I can allow us to do _anything_ like what we did last Wednesday when I'm sporting a shiner like the one on my ribs. I guess it's a good thing we haven't had the chance to repeat what we did Wednesday in the last eight days. I can only give Edward the "I'm clumsy" excuse so many times before he'll begin to get suspicious of my bruises. He seemed to buy that excuse last Wednesday, when he spotted the now completely faded bruise from in between my shoulder blades. I still can't believe I was stupid enough to expose that injury like I did. I was just so caught up in what we'd just done... the fact that I'd left my hair up hadn't even crossed my mind.

Well, I can assure you right now that I _will not _be making that same mistake again. I need to be extra careful from now on, and try to keep Edward and I out of solitary situations while I have _any _visible injuries... as saddening as that is, especially now that I _know _what I'm having to avoid.

I sigh and release my t-shirt, dropping my head forward. And to think, I got this one all because I wanted to drive my dad's old truck...

_**Flashback - Saturday 1 July 2017 - (five days ago)**_

_I've been in an ecstatic mood since yesterday, all because I PASSED MY DRIVERS TEST! I can officially, _legally_ drive. The first person I told, of course, was Edward, who let me drive his car to the bookstore, where I then told Angela. We popped into Forks' Florist to quickly see Bev and Alan while we were on Main Street - both were happy for me. The one person I _should've _told first, if this was a perfect world, doesn't actually know yet._

_I'm telling her soon, and I'm more nervous than I have ever been because of it. I'm currently sat opposite her, slowly eating some toast while she breezes her way through her Full English breakfast, which I've given her extra of in hopes of buttering her up a bit. She places the last bite into her mouth with a satisfied hum and leans back in her chair while she chews and swallows it._

_I place my half-eaten, and now cold piece of toast down on my plate and take a deep breath. "I..." I have to clear my throat and take a nervous sip of orange juice. _Let's try that again. _I hide my shaking hands beneath the table and fake confidence as I meet her eyes, which are gazing at me with suspicion. "I have some good news." Genuine surprise flashes in her eyes, before the mistrust returns. "I passed my drivers test," I confess, before offering a shaky smile._

_"And?" is all she says, sounding unimpressed. I don't even register the slight stab of disappointment, half expecting this reaction, because I haven't gotten past the most nerve-wracking part of this conversation yet._

_"Well," I begin, having to pause to take another gulp of juice. "I-I was wondering if y-you'd allow me to drive d-dad's," another pause to compose my trembling voice, "dad's truck that's in the garage."_

_She stares at me wordlessly for many passing seconds, expressionless. And then she throws her head back and laughs an outrageous belly-laugh. I _do _register the panic that sparks now. _Well that reaction can't be good._ Still laughing, she sputters, "Y-you have... got... to be j-... joking!" And then her laughs return in tenfold._

_I hang my head, staying perfectly still and silent while she gets her amusement out of the way. What is to replace it, I have no clue._

_When her laughter diminishes to sporadic chuckles, and as she wipes at the tears that have been forced from her eyes, I raise my head. "Please," I whisper, hating the fact that I'm begging, but hoping she takes pity on me._

_"You aren't joking, are you?" she asks, all traces of humour vanished. When I shake my head in response, her eyes narrow, her expression turning cold. "Why would you ask me such a thing? I've never indicated that you'd receive that vehicle after passing your test!"_

_"I-I know," I stutter. "But _he _told me I could have it," I admit quietly. She taps at the side of her coffee mug with the fingernails of her left hand as she sits in deep thought. I noticed this morning, when she first reached for her cutlery, that she's recently removed her wedding ring. It's not been off her finger my entire life, even for the six years, eight months and three weeks since my father's death. And now, all of a sudden, the simple brass band, with its engraved date of their wedding on the inside, is gone. I have no idea what that means entirely, but it definitely means _something_ has changed._

_The tapping cuts off abruptly, and she stands in a sudden and fluent motion, her chair scraping against the floor awfully._

_"Yes, well, that was before _you_ killed him," she hisses at me, her expression as dark as a storm as she pivots on the spot and heads for the door._

_I try to keep my guilt at bay as I get to my shaky feet and follow her. "Please," I beg again. She stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns to face me, stood in the kitchen doorway._

_"It's not possible, Isabella. Even if I _wanted _to give you it, I don't know where the keys are."_

_"I do!" I exclaim unintentionally. Her hand tightens around the bannister as one eye twitches._

_"Excuse me?"_

_I step forward with _real_ confidence. "Yeah. They're in the top drawer of your dresser," I inform her, wondering how she didn't remember this. They've been there since the truck was no longer being used._

_"Why you little..." she grinds out as she marches toward me, trapping me against the doorframe in my lame attempt to retreat back into the kitchen. She slaps me across the face with enough force to send my head to the side. "You conniving fucking snoop. How _dare_ you go searching through my things!"_

_"What?" I ask stupidly, earning a second burning slap to my other cheek. Tears sting in my eyes, but I'm so confused that they simply stay as a pool in my eyes, not escaping just yet._

_"Don't act dumb with me. Who do you think you are, going through my things? How else would you know where the keys are?" she shouts in my face. How else would I... _what?_ So she _did _know where they were? Then why would she pretend not to?_

_"I haven't-"_

_"I swear to God, Isabella," she growls, pulling her hand back in preparation to slap me again. I raise my hands in defense, stuttering over my plea for her to wait!_

_"No! Wait! P-please, don't. I _haven't _snooped. I _swear_. I know where they are because I have to put your clean laundry away every week. I've seen them in there every week for _years._" __I'm sobbing now. The tears released from my eyes partway through my explanation._

_She slowly lowers her hand as realisation reaches her. "Oh." She steps back. "Of course." The anger rapidly leaves her, until she's stood in front of me with her usual, emotionless, cold expression. "The answer is still no."_

_Against my better judgement, I push away from the doorframe and follow her as she once again heads for the stairs. "_Please_, Mother. I hardly ask you for anything and I wouldn't be now. You _know _I'd just fund my own car in any other circumstance, but he _promised _me. _Please._"_

_She pauses with her back to me, one foot on the bottom step. I'm wise enough to keep my distance, in case she decides to whirl around with a swinging left hook or even a flying elbow. After what feels like an eternity, she breaks her tense silence. "Fine," she mutters darkly. "You can have what he promised you. Meet me in the garage." And then she's walking up the stairs, her feet hitting each step with far more force than is necessary._

_But I can't find it in me to care. Instead, I cheer silently in my head as I quickly make my way back through to the kitchen. I stop to finish my glass of OJ, move all of our dirty dishes to the sink, before walking to the basement door that's tucked away at the side of the kitchen. I turn the light on after opening the door, and then pick up the half-full laundry basket that's on the shelf by the door. _Might as well take this down._ Since Mr Cullen told me to rest my left wrist as much as possible, and to avoid heavy lifting, I _have _been taking it easy. Of course, with my work load, it has been difficult occasionally, but I informed my mother of his assessment of my wrist - that was another conversation I dreaded, though it went pretty calmly all things considered - and she understands... to an extent._

_With a smile pulling at my lips, my stinging cheeks forgotten, I start walking down the stairs._ I can't believe she's really agreed. I get to drive my dad's truck! She really said yes! That went better than-

_A shove at my back sends me toppling down the stairs. Luckily I was close to the bottom, and didn't have too far to fall. But that's hardly important right now; I still fell about five steps. I land on my front, the laundry basket blocking my landing and striking me in the ribs, the plastic audibly snapping beneath me. I cry out, pained beyond articulation as I push myself off of the basket and roll onto my back. Tears are once again falling from my eyes as I clutch at my midsection, frantically checking for blood and an open wound. The amount of pain I received from that landing, I was sure the plastic had punctured my skin as I landed on top of the basket. Thankfully, it didn't, but my _God_ did that hurt._

_I force myself to look up at the blurred figure that stands on the third step from the bottom, towering over me. "Here are the keys to your dead father's truck. Congratulations," she mumbles, her voice void of _anything_ as she hurls the keys down at me. They bounce off of my head, before landing on the floor beside me. My mother, the one that has shocked me inconceivably with her most recent actions, disappears back up the stairs and slams the basement door shut, locking it._

_I lay on the basement floor, in a pained, shocked silence for a long while after that._

**_End of Flashback_**

I was so preoccupied by my elation at getting what I wanted, that I hadn't even heard her follow me down the stairs. My Saturday was spent locked down in the basement. Theoretically, I could've used what is now _my_ truck to get out of there, maybe have gone to see Edward or gone to get some food, but _physically,_ that wasn't possible.

She left me down there all day, so I had no way to treat my excruciating ribs with ice, no way to get any pain relief, no way to log my newest injury, and no possible way to get any water or food.

I didn't have my phone on me, nothing to keep me occupied... not that I was really in the mood to do anything but sit against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and feel sorry for myself.

She let me out in time to cook her some dinner. It's safe to say we ate separately Saturday night.

I avoided meeting up with Edward Sunday and Monday, telling him that I had a cold - _"in the summer?" _he'd asked - and didn't want to pass any germs on to him. I was in too much pain to act otherwise around him. We met up at the Diner for lunch on Tuesday, where I rolled up in my new blue 1964 Chevy pick-up truck. My father always took special care of "his baby", and I know he had it serviced just before he died, so it ran perfectly from the moment I turned the keys in the ignition this Tuesday - which was my first time driving it. Edward was speechless when I pulled up in the pick-up truck. I don't know whether he was amazed or appalled (it's very different from _his _choice of car), but I love it so I couldn't really care. If Edward has noticed me moving around gingerly in the last couple times we've met up, then he's kept it to himself.

The rain is still beating against my window. Here in Forks, rain holds off for nothing - even summer days which you'd expect to be all blue skies and sun and rainbows. That's just not how the weather here works. It actually hasn't rained like this here in a while. I know I'm not the only one in town that's been shocked by that.

I make my bed before exiting my bedroom. I decide to go and make Renee's bed, too, knowing she'll be already down stairs, having something to eat before work.

My plans are forgotten, however, when I enter her bedroom that's across the hall from mine and am met with the sight of a _very _messy bedroom. A small suitcase is open on her bed, and what has to be _every single _item of clothing is out of the wardrobe and drawers and now either on the floor or on the bed. It's like a bombs gone off in here.

"What are you doing?" I gasp and whirl around, coming face to face with my mother, who's already dressed for work.

"I was going to make your bed, but..." I slowly turn back to the mess.

"You don't have to do that today," she says, not elaborating any further.

"Are you going away?" I ask, eyeing up the suitcase. Renee sighs heavily as she steps around me and walks over to her bed.

"Yes. I was going to tell you this weekend, but seeing as you have to know _everything_ at this very moment," she says, pausing to heave another sigh, "I'm going away with a friend next week. I'll be leaving work a little early Monday and won't be back 'till Saturday. I expect you to stick to your chores and curfew. No fooling around while I'm gone. I mean it, Isabella."

I nod, not knowing what to say. _A week? _I can't say I'm not shocked. She doesn't go away. _Ever_. Not without her family before my dad's death, and not at all since it. "Okay," I finally say. "Going anywhere nice?" I ask, trying and failing to keep the curiosity out of my voice.

"Anywhere is better than here," she says, and her tone tells me all I need to know: this conversation is over. That statement was her way of dismissing me. I nod silently and leave her room, going to the bathroom to shower and begin my day.

* * *

**A/N: For the purpose of this _fictional_ story, we're going to pretend that the truck was ready to drive immediately. I know a vehicle that has sat idle for a long time would need some work done to it before being used, but for the sake of this fic, it's not needed. And let's just assume she sorted out insurance and registered the car before driving it, okay?**

**Anyway, what did you think? Evil Renee is off for a week soon, I wonder what will happen? Big things coming up soon!**

**Thanks for reading. Please review! See you Monday!**


	39. Chapter 39: 'world's biggest bitch (B)

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

_Previously..._

"_Going anywhere nice?" I ask, trying and failing to keep the curiosity out of my voice._

_"Anywhere is better than here," she says, and her tone tells me all I need to know: this conversation is over. That statement was her way of dismissing me. I nod silently and leave her room, going to the bathroom to shower and begin my day._

Chapter Thirty-nine: 'world's biggest bitch' (Bella POV)

_Thursday 6 July 2017_

I text Edward before I leave my house, asking if I can come over. I tried to hold off from texting him until it seemed like an appropriate time in the morning. I hate getting up as early as I did today, because I had to purposefully waste time until that "appropriate hour" arrived. At exactly 9:00AM, I texted him. His rapid reply of "Yes!" has me packing my bag with my laptop, journal, a book, charger, etc, before heading down to the garage. As I slowly reverse out of the garage and down the driveway, I send a brief glance to my bicycle which is still chained to the mailbox post. I haven't touched it since I got my hands on the keys to the blue beauty I can now call my own. Soon I'm on my way to Edward's.

I'm just pulling up to his driveway as Mrs Cullen's car exits their large garage. She doesn't even look at me as she reverses, turns and drives off, though I know she noticed me because she had that pinched look on her face... or maybe that's just how she naturally looks?

I throw up the hood of my raincoat which I slipped on before leaving the house. I hop out of my truck, lock it and then speedwalk to the front door, shielding my bag underneath my raincoat. I knock with three sharp wraps on the door and impatiently wait for it to open.

Unfortunately, mini Mrs Cullen answers the door. Her dark, short pixie hair cut now has pink highlights tinting the ends. _Someone's been to a salon recently_.

"Go round the back," is all she says, before going to close the door in my face, leaving me stood out here in the rain.

Before the door can completely close, however, I hear Edward's exasperated voice shout somewhere from within, "Alice! What the hell are you doing? Let her in!"

I hear Alice's heavy sigh as she swings the door open again. The bored glance she sends my way as I step in has me trying not to roll my eyes. The door is slammed shut behind me, causing me to jump. Edward enters the foyer from the left, hurrying to my side as he sends a glare his sister's way. "Don't you have friends to entertain, Alice?" he asks, obviously trying to get rid of her.

I watch their exchange as I pull down my hood and unzip my raincoat, shrugging out of it carefully, so as not to get too much rainwater all over the place.

"Don't you have lives to ruin, Edward?" she counters, matching his tone. My eyes widen as I toe off my Converse, not bothering to untie the laces - mainly because I don't want to embarrass myself by trying, and failing, to bend over to untie them. _Lives to ruin? That escalated quickly._

"Whatever, Alice. Bella and I are using the media room," he says, gesturing for me to follow him as he walks past her and toward the stairs. All under the watchful eye of his sister, I hasten to pick up my shoes - _Ow!_ \- and follow him.

"Don't care, Edward. The girls and I are doing each other's hair," she explains, though I'm sure _he _doesn't really cares what _she_ has to say either.

"Yeah, I can see that," he says with a smirk - though this smirk isn't the one I've gotten used to seeing. This one is evil, malicious. She rolls her eyes and heads in the opposite direction. "Can you believe her?" he grumbles to me as he leads me downstairs. I silently shake my head at his back, not really understanding what just happened between him and his sister. At times like this, when he complains about his sister, which is frequent when it comes to Edward Cullen, I'm grateful my parents had no other kids after me. Siblings appear to be hard work, especially when they're as... _difficult_ as Alice.

He tells me to hang my coat over the back of his desk chair and to leave my shoes in his bathroom, before we go into the media room.

We argue over what movie to watch for almost twenty minutes, before settling on _Gladiator_, a movie I'm surprised Edward has never seen. I thought every teenaged boy loved violent movies, and this is one _very _violent movie. It was one of my dad's favourites, so it's a movie I know all about. This shocks Edward, much like when he found out I'd seen _Casino_ before.

Next we argue over what snacks to get from the extensively wide selection at the back of the room. We don't necessarily argue over what to have (there would be no point because we can choose individually). Mostly we argue over the fact that there are no Haribo Gummi Bears available - him for and me against - and about stealing a couple of the cans of beer that are in the refrigerator - again, him for and me against. In the end, I accept the fact that there are no Gummi Bears and he follows his parent's rules and my example by grabbing a can of Dr Pepper instead.

The next problem we face is where to sit. There's this humongous U-shaped couch, and we are stuck on where each of us should sit. Should we sit beside each other in the center? In our own corners? Laid out across the center? This battle isn't done externally, like the last two arguments. It's a fight we have with ourselves as we stand facing the couch in silence. We both seem to struggle with it, and I know it's because we don't want to sit _too_ close and suffer temptation, or too far and not feel like we're watching this movie together - yes, the couch is _that_ large it could end up feeling that way.

Eventually, we both sit beside each other, but with a space between us which we mutually use as our 'snack area'. I cross my legs and pull a blanket over them before grabbing one of the large, fluffy pillows and placing it in my lap. My ribs ache, and I want to be as comfortable as possible. I watch Edward fidget around, trying to get comfortable too, before he presses play on the tablet controller thingamabob that he's tried to show me how to use but I just can't get the hang of.

His questions start soon after, which initiates the next argument - this time about him not shutting the fuck up during the movie!

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

Nearly three hours later, I'm in tears.

"Oh, just ignore me," I hiccup, wiping the back of my hand across my snotty nose in a very unladylike fashion.

"Do you always react this way to that movie?" Edward asks me from his place directly beside me. Within the first half an hour, the snacks were all consumed, that safety space between us left enticingly vacant. Somehow, sometime, we drifted closer together until that space we'd purposefully put between us was no more. For the remainder of the movie we sat side by side, so close that our sides were pressed together. Edward's arm ended up slung over the back of the couch at some point. I don't know exactly when.

You know in romance books, when the couple go to a movie and end up so distracted by their company, usually with how close they are, that they end up missing a majority, if not all, of the movie they were meant to be watching? Yeah, well, that didn't really happen with me. I don't know about Edward, but I love this movie and wasn't going to miss one second of it, even if there was a handsome boy who I happened to have some sexual experience with only a week ago sat so close I could smell his cologne.

Okay... so maybe I noticed a little.

I answer his question with a silent nod, that's quickly followed by another hiccup as I attempt to calm down. "Sorry," I chuckle, "I'm an emotional wreck with some - okay, _many _\- movies and this is one of them."

"I can see that," he replies with his own chuckle.

I think it's an absent-minded action, or maybe it's deliberate. Either way, _I_ notice when Edward's thumb, the one on the hand of the arm that's still slung over the cushion behind me, starts rubbing comforting circles into my shoulder. "What other movies get you this emotional?" he asks curiously.

"Oh, lots," I answer, the chuckle I expel _this _time sounding a little more breathy than the last. "Um, Marley and Me, of course. Braveheart has me in tears _every single time. _The romances like Me Before You, Titanic, _The Fault in Our Stars_." I say the last one with a knowing glance in Edward's direction. He just smiles and winks, setting my heart aflutter. "The Notebook-"

"The one my mom and sister were _supposedly _watching on your first day here?" Edward interrupts me to ask.

"Yep," I confirm with a nod, "that's the one. Great movie and fantastic book! What else? Um, _oh! _Love Story, with Ali McGraw. It's an older movie compared to some of the others I've mentioned but it's so wonderful! And how could I forget? My Girl, with the kid from Home Alone."

"The Christmas movie?" Edward asks. I nod and then lecture him on how the world will end if he doesn't watch My Girl. _I need to start making a list of movies my uneducated best friend MUST watch! _With a wide smile, and the continuous, soothing rotation of his thumb, which has now transported to the dip where shoulder and neck meet, Edward asks, "Anything else?" I grin right back at him and dive into more of my rather extensive list of movies-that-make-me-cry. I've listed another half a dozen before I gasp loudly.

"Oh!" I exclaim, another title coming to my mind in a flash. "And Ghost!"

"A horror?" Edward asks, again with that clueless tone in his voice.

"_No!_ You've never... dear God. Are you kidding me right now? You've _never _seen Ghost? With Demi Moore and Whoopi Goldberg and *_Partick Swayze_*," I say, waggling my eyebrows as I draw out the last name dreamily, attempting to wind him up. Edward's face scrunches up adorably.

"Why'd you say his name like that?" he asks, sounding affronted. I try to hold my smirk at bay as I answer.

"Come on, have you _seen_ the man?" I ask rather bluntly. Edward just rolls his eyes and I laugh. "So you've heard of him then?"

"No. What's he been in?" he asks, the perturbed look slowly leaving.

"He's the main guy in Dirty Dancing." He stares at me with a glazed look. Again, he's clueless. "Road House?" He shakes his head. "Seriously? Neither of those ring any bells?"

"Oh, they do. Especially Dirty Dancing. Who _hasn't_ heard of that movie? I've just never sat and watched any of them." He shrugs.

"Okay, well you had to have watched Point Break with him in. It's also got Keanu Reeves in, too."

"Okay, now _him_ I've heard of."

I smile broadly, resisting the urge to fist pump the air. Success! "Great! What have you watched with him in then?"

"Nothing," he admits casually. I gape at him once more.

There's a moment of silence.

"Did you even _own_ a TV before I met you?" I ask, gobsmacked. Edward smirks, shaking his head at my apparently amusing behaviour.

"Yes, I've just never been one to sit and watch television often. Unlike you, who seems to study movie trivia as a past time."

"I do not!" I protest, carefully crossing my arms. "I just enjoy watching movies is all." I get lost in my own thoughts after declaring this. My time for watching movies has depleted drastically in the most recent of years, purely because I hardly have any time for it anymore, what, with school and chores and all. My movie knowledge is vast; my father never really set too harsh a limit on what I watched, as long as it was within reason, and whenever I _have_ had the time since he passed, my mother never put a stop to me watching something out of my age-range. Probably because she didn't care.

Edward's thumb, which has now moved to the column of my neck in its lazy circling pattern, is what drags me out of my melancholy train of thought. I offer him a tense smile, which he returns, his much more relaxed than mine. Now we're as face-to-face as one can be, so close that his face is all I can see. His eyes drop from mine to gaze at my mouth for a split second, before jumping back up to meet my eyes again. "How's your bruise?" he asks.

I pull back, startled by his question, my arms tightening around my middle, instantly assuming he means my newest one, which he can't possibly know about. "Bella?" I remain frozen, until his thumb stops it's circling and dips beneath the material of my plain charcoal t-shirt at the back of my neck. _Oh!_ He means my old one. _Of course!_

I shake my head silently, feeling silly. "Oh, it's fine now. Completely faded," I tell him truthfully.

There's a moment of pause, and Edward's expression is suspiciously guarded. "Can I see?" he asks finally, his voice deep and husky. Realisation dawns on me as his thumb reappears before dipping beneath the neckline at the back of my top once more.

"Uuh," I nervously try to find my way out of this. It's obvious what he's hinting at, and as much as I want to oblige and give in to the feelings that were awoken last Wednesday, I know that I can't. I must avoid _that_ for at least another week, though I fear that even _then _the bruise on my ribs will still be visible. It is, after all, one of the nastiest I've ever received. No joke.

Besides, even if I made up an excuse, the pain is still too fresh and doing something so strenuous would be impossible for me right now, sadly.

"Uuh," I stammer again. _Shit!_ "Maybe later," I eventually say, hating myself and my mother in that moment as hurt and rejection reaches his emerald eyes. He averts his gaze from me, his arm dropping from behind me. _Well, don't I feel like the world's biggest bitch now!_

"Why don't we go to the meadow?" I ask after clearing my throat as I push myself up off the couch. Edward barely glances up at me before standing, too.

"But it's raining," he reminds me.

I shrug. "It may have stopped," I say as cheerily as I can. I grab his hand and pull him toward the door, hoping that my distraction works.

Luck, for once, is on my side. Through the windows of the great room, we can both see that the rain really has stopped. "See?"

"But the grass will be wet."

"That's what blankets and raincoats are for. Come on. Please?" I ask, turning to face Edward. He seems hesitant but eventually sighs, nodding at me with a small smile. "Great! Do You have any waterproof blankets?"

He nods and after telling me to go and grab our things from his room, he turns and heads for the garage. I do as he asked, but not before taking a few seconds to breathe as soon as he's gone. I lift up my top to quickly inspect my ribs, hoping that somehow, miraculously, the bruising would be gone.

Nope. Still there.

With a heavy sigh, I drop my top and wipe at my face. It's a tad sticky with my tears from earlier, and that fact gives me pause. Usually, that movie leaves me in tears for a long while after. But Edward had me laughing in no time, ironically by striking up a conversation about movies that make me cry. He turned my sadness into happiness without even trying.

I shouldn't be surprised. It's something he does for me on a daily basis now, just by being him, and being in my life.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this one! Please review!**

**Next chapter is an Edward POV. I wasn't lying when I said a couple chapters ago that big things were coming up... they'll begin unfolding next chapter. It's a bit longer than this one. See you tomorrow (sorry about this one being a day late. You're all probably used to it by now). **


	40. Chapter 40: 'acting strange' (EPOV)

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty: 'acting strange' (Edward POV)

_Saturday 8 July 2017_

I look under every pillow, every blanket. I stuff my hand between the sides and backs of the U-shaped couch. I check the floor, by things, under things. Nothing. I thoroughly check over the snack bar in my search; in every drawer and cupboard, all the shelves and even in the freezer. No luck.

_Where the fuck is it?_

I've searched high and low, but still, I can't find it. All I wanted when I came in here was to watch a fucking movie and I can't even do that! I can feel my anger building, and it's not the kind of anger that has you simply _feeling _it. It's the kind that has you _expressing_ it. Has you on the brink of throwing anything within reach, the kind that has you so worked up, you're close to tears.

I understand my feelings are a little over the top. It'll be _s__omewhere_. But not being able to find the control gadget for the media room is the final straw in the whirlwind of negative emotions that have been building as of late.

It all started Sunday.

The days before then were fine. _W__e_ were fine - and by 'we', I mean me and Bella. Everything was back to normal... well, almost. After what we did Wednesday, I don't think we could ever go 'back to normal'. But we were fine nonetheless. There was no awkwardness between us, as I'd feared. No regret. Perfectly fine.

Then, on Saturday, I hadn't heard from her all day, not until the evening, which is when she replied to my text message from earlier that day to tell me she'd been busy all day. I thought nothing of it. Maybe she and her mom were doing something together. _How nice if that's the case_, I'd thought.

Sunday, I tried arranging something for us to do, but she turned everything I mentioned down. Even to simply hang out at either of our houses playing cards wasn't accepted. And again, on Monday, she responded in exactly the same way to everything I suggested. I can't say I wasn't a little hurt. I _know _Bella works almost every day, but I also know that her shifts haven't changed for the summer. She still only works after-school hours and the odd Sunday Angela needs her in, which isn't very often. Her claiming that she had a cold had me worrying. Did she genuinely have a cold _in summer_, or was she avoiding me?

These couple days brought to my attention how dependant I've become on Bella's company. It made me realise that I also have no other friends apart from Bella, not that I care. I _could_ have plenty of friends, if I wanted. Alice's group would welcome me with open arms at a moments notice, all because of who my family is, I know this. But it doesn't change anything. I don't _want _to be friends with them, to spend time with them. The only person I have any real desire to see and speak to outside of my family and away from school, is Bella. And _that _realisation has me wanting to know what's wrong even _more_!

But, in one of my rare _non_-stubborn moments - yes, I have those moments, despite what Bella (who is also extremely stubborn, might I add) seems to think - I let it slide. And I did so with extra ease once she agreed to meet me for lunch on Tuesday. Which she did... arriving in a blue truck. It's definitely not what I expected her choice of vehicle to be.

I heard my mom and sister talking about it two days ago - news travels fast in a small town - and they were shocked, too. The only difference is, _my _shock is harmless. Though it surprised me, I actually think it's pretty cool. After all, Bella's not one to follow trend; she always does things differently. My mother and sister are _appalled_ by her choice of vehicle, however. It isn't something a young lady should be driving, they say. I haven't even bothered to tell them that it was her father's, as Bella informed me later Tuesday afternoon. It wouldn't change their opinion in any way. It wouldn't matter that someone important to Bella once drove it and that's why she chooses to use it now. There would be no sympathy or understanding. Even if Ryan Gosling - both of their favourite actor because of that sappy _Notebook_ movie - came to Forks and gifted the truck to Bella himself, they'd _still_ think it was unpardonable, simply because it is _Bella._

Wednesday, I didn't see her, but that was _my _fault this time. Well, my family's fault. I had to go with them to a barbecue at the house of one of my dad's colleagues. It was a boring affair that I _had _to attend. It was an all afternoon thing, though the amount of food offered was meagre and I was sat nodding my head to music I didn't recognise most of the time. I only took satisfaction in seeing that my sister was equally as bored as me, though she's perfected hiding it in front of our parents' colleagues and friends. I noticed it though, from time to time.

Thursday, Bella came round to watch a movie. Alice's awful treatment of her has contributed to the anger that I'm feeling now. But that was only a minor contributor by the end of the day. Bella was sat _right there_ the entire movie, and though I did enjoy the film _immensely_, all I could think about was Wednesday. About Bella. In my bed.

A bed, which so happened to be only down the hall.

She was so cute getting all upset over the end of the movie, and also in her enthusiasm when we spoke about movies. I didn't know she was such a big movie fan - _still so much we don't know about each other_. I was sat there with my arm around her, comforting her, and my distraction during the movie suddenly turned into a neon sign, flashing in my mind.

_Soooo_... I thought I'd try my luck.

I didn't expect to be turned down, to be rejected so abruptly. It was like my hint - and it was a pretty obvious hint - made her feel uncomfortable. She looked to be trying her damned hardest to come up with an excuse in the moments silence between me dropping my hint and her answering.

I was left feeling hurt, rejected, embarrassed... and later, once she'd gone home after a few hours at the meadow, I let the anger finally settle in.

It wasn't anger at _her_. Sure, she'd caused the other feelings, but I could never feel angry at her for saying no. I was angry at _myself_. Why did I agree to have sex with her in the first place? Didn't I know it would most likely end badly? Is this the beginning of that inevitable 'bad end'? I'm just a stupid, hormonal teenage boy who thought with the head I have down below than the useful one up top.

Now I've gone and possibly ruined everything!

I've not seen her since Thursday. Yesterday, I didn't even try to ask her to meet up. The sad thing is, neither did she.

Today, however, we're going back to her meadow. After mostly rain the past few days, the sun is briefly out, so Bella called this morning to ask if I wanted to meet. I agreed, of course. All I want to do before she arrives at midday is to watch a movie! But I can't find the fucking remote. It _should _be in it's little compartment that's built into the wall beside the screen. It's not. I've checked. Four times.

I sigh and throw down the pillow I'm holding with _much _more force than needed. I feel like crying, as pathetic as that sounds. All I can constantly think about is Bella, and if she regrets Wednesday, and if _that's _why she's been acting so dodgy.

I slam the media room door behind me as I go to find someone in my family. One of them has to know where it is. I storm up the stairs, my feet slapping against each step I ascend.

I find my father first, in his study. He has no idea where it is, but tells me Alice was the last one with it he thinks. On my way to Alice's room, I pass my mother, who's coming out of the games room that's on the top floor, above the garage. I ask her, but she hasn't seen it either. Bev won't be by till later, so I can't ask her yet. And that leaves me Alice, who I make my way to, stopping outside of her bedroom and knocking sharply once. She leaves me waiting at least a full minute and a half before she answers.

"What?" she demands harshly when she sees it's me. Her breaths are coming out in harsh puffs, quickly. Her cropped, pink-tinged hair is all tossled and her blouse is buttoned up incorrectly. I feel my eyebrows raise as I assess her appearance.

"What are you up to, Ali?" I ask, not hiding my amusement and curiosity as I try to peer around her. "Got Jasper in there?" I joke. At her wide-eyed, stunned look, I guess my joke isn't all that far from the truth. "You _have_?" I question loudly, shocked. Mom and Dad let her have a boy in her room _alone_? That's a first! I remember when she tried that in Chicago. Dad about had a coronary, while Mom was just trying to get over "how fast her baby was growing up"... yeah, I know. Not the reaction you'd expect a mother to have about her at-the-time-14 year old daughter sneaking boys up to her room. But then, Alice can do no wrong in our mother's eyes.

She hushes me, pressing her hand to my mouth and pulling me into her bedroom. While she looks left and right in the hallway, I come face to face with a disheveled Jasper. He isn't as bothered about this as my sister, who is frantically trying to sort out her appearance.

"What do you want, Edward?" she asks, trying to sound impatient, but to be honest it comes across as more helpless. My anger from earlier has almost completely vanished in the wake of Alice's discomfort. She's never caught off guard like this, and I can't say I'm not enjoying it.

I contemplate teasing her about this - it really is tempting - but knowing Bella will be here soon, I just want to get the controller and spend some time alone in the media room. I need to keep my mind preoccupied until she arrives. "Do you know where the media room control is?" I ask her after much deliberation.

She purses her lips, and just like that, the worried, slightly frantic look is replaced by a calmer, mischievous one. "I may," she says cryptically. I just raise a brow knowing that a bargain of some sort is about to be made. There's always got to be something in it for my sister. "I'll give it to you if you do one thing for me."

I sigh and look between the two of them. "Let me guess, you want me to keep the fact that _he's _here to myself?" I ask, nodding toward Jasper who's sat on the edge of her bed. He looks out of place surrounded by all this pink. I worked out pretty quickly by her behaviour that my parents haven't actually approved of this.

"Yes. If you promise that, then I'll give you the remote," she announces, folding her arms across her chest.

"Fine," I agree, holding out my hand. Alice raises a brow. I sigh. "I _promise_." She gives me a beaming smile and walks over to her desk, unlocking one of the draws with a little key from a pot of random, loose stationary pieces. My jaw drops so my mouth is hanging open. "Why have you hidden it away in there?"

She rolls her eyes as she hands it me. "I was keeping it for me and Jaz to use after..." she stops and quickly changes what she was going to say, hastily adding "in a while," at the end.

"That doesn't mean you have to hide it away," I grit out, my anger from before slowly creeping back in.

"Oh, don't get so upset, Edward. You have it now, don't you?"

"Whatever," I huff as I march out of her room, leaving the door open as she does to me so often.

"Remember our deal!" she whispers loudly from behind me before closing her door. I try not to think about what my sister will be doing in her bedroom with the Mayor's son and head down to the media room. Once I'm down there, I have only one problem: I don't know what to watch. _Damn, I need my movie guru._

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

She arrives a few minutes past twelve. I'm pathetic and am sat waiting on our front step when she arrives. I'm up and walking toward her before she's completely closed the door to her truck. "Woah," she says as I sweep her up into a hug, preventing her from swinging her bag onto her back. I squeeze her to me.

My emotions are confusing me. She may have caused hurt and embarrassment the last time I saw her, and I may be angry with our situation - whatever that may be exactly - but she's still my best friend, and ten minutes into the movie I put on, all I wanted was to see her. I turned it off ten minutes later and here I've been, waiting.

My sister and her friends would laugh if they knew how pathetic I was being.

"Is everything okay?" she asks when I finally let her go. She wraps her arms around her middle, something she used to do when we first met, as if she's trying to protect herself - emotionally, physically. Seeing this just messes with my emotions further.

I grit my teeth and nod my head. "Yeah," I answer quietly, before grabbing her non-injured hand and leading her around her truck and to the opening in the trees.

"Wait! Edward, wait a minute!" she hisses, pulling at my hand. I stop, as she requests, and turn. She continues forward with a few characteristically clumsy steps, releasing a little "oof" as she collides with me. "Wait," she says, still in that desperate whisper she used a moment ago. She puts her bag on her back properly as she speaks. "We can't just disappear into the trees. What if someone is watching us?" she asks worriedly, looking over her shoulder at my house. I allow a brief glance at the extravagant building before I grab her hand once more and guide her past the treeline. "Edward!" she protests again.

"Don't worry about it. No one's bothered with what we do," I tell her. And it's true. They couldn't care any less. _Wow. Where has all this self-pity come from? Get a grip, Edward!_

I sigh and release her hand. She looks up at me, concerned, as she falls in step beside me. "Sorry," I say quietly.

"Edward, what's wrong?" she asks, stopping. I carry on walking for a few feet and finally stop with my back to her.

"Nothing," I grumble, kicking a fallen twig away.

"It's obviously not nothing," she says softly, her voice growing closer to me. I tense when I feel her hand on my back. It moves up to my shoulder blades, and further still until she's stroking the hair at the base of my skull. I sigh, releasing all the tension from my body as I close my eyes briefly.

"I'm sorry. I'm just a little moody today, that's all."

"Is it Alice?" she asks, and I'm thankful for the mirth I can hear in her voice. Thankful for the distraction. I turn to her with a smirk and she smiles, dropping her hand from my head.

We begin walking again. I allow Bella to enter the meadow first, before sliding through the small gap to get to it myself. I understand why she loves this place so much. It's tranquil, and I instantly feel my cluster-fuck of emotions melt away. I have a genuine smile on my face, probably the first of the day, as I help her spread out the blanket she always brings to this place. Once we're sat down, facing each other, the small moments reprieve from my feelings is broken, by Bella.

"So, now we're here, are you going to tell me what is _really_ the matter?" she asks. I drop my gaze to the blanket in the space between us. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" she asks tentatively. She reaches out to pat the back of one of my hands, both of which are nestled in my lap.

I look up at her. She's so beautiful, especially in this moment with the light of the sun shining down into the center of the meadow, exactly where we are. It must be a bit behind Bella, because there's a glow of light around her face, enhancing her beauty. That and the flowers I can see in my peripheral vision, all around her. _What I wouldn't give to have my camera with me at this very second!_ I gulp, and instead of leaning forward to kiss her like I want to do, I look down at my hands again.

She stays silent, presumably allowing me the time to consider her words. Which I do.

She says I can tell her anything. But surely she has to know that this goes two ways? She can tell me _anything_. Does she know that? I don't think she does, because most of the time I feel like she tells me _nothing._

_God_. Isn't this all backwards? Isn't it supposed to be the woman who wants to open up and the man who keeps things to himself? Isn't that how it typically is in a relationship?

And there is the root of the problem... _This isn't a relationship, is it, Edward? You're friends, and if you're anything more it's only up a fraction of a stage, to 'friends-with-benefits'? Nothing more._

Whether she knows she can tell me anything or not, I know this won't get resolved if I don't open up. And maybe if _I _am open and honest with her, then she'll be the same way with me!

I inhale deeply, giving myself a silent pep-talk, needing to do this as if I were ripping off a band-aid. "Do you regret it?" I ask as I release my inhaled breath of air.

At first I think she may not understand what I mean by _it_, but it's soon obvious that she _does _understand; her reaction was just a little delayed. I hear _and_ see Bella's sharp gasp. Her eyes are wide watery pools of brown, just staring at me. The longer she stays silent, looking at me like that, the worse my fears that the answer will be 'yes' becomes.

"Edward," she whispers, sounding shocked, upset and furious all at once. I stay silent, waiting for more, thought I expect the worst. "What... Why would you think that?" Okay, not what I was expecting.

I shrug and look back down at the blanket. "You've been acting _strange_ all week. I just assumed it was because of what we did..." I trail off, not knowing what else to say. She stares at me like I've got five heads.

"_Strange_? What do you mean?"

"You know, trying to avoid spending time with me. Trying to avoid doing _it_ again."

"I've not..." her protests fall away and all at once my worst fears come to life. She _does_ regret it. And that can only mean on thing: she'll want to stop spending time with me from now on. Her regret will make it too awkward.

"Fuck," I curse quietly, running my hand through my hair in my agitation. How did I manage to ruin something so great so completely? I don't dare glance at her again as I go to stand. I've got one knee bent with my foot planted flat on the ground, one hand braced on the floor ready the push up, when I'm suddenly stopped. My knee is pressed back down to the ground by a delicate yet firm hand, and in a surge of unexpected movement, I have Bella suddenly straddling my lap.

I'm stunned. Absolutely speechless. Out of instinct, I straighten my legs out a bit and my hands go to her hips. Her face is directly in front of mine, her arms loosely looped around my neck. "I do not regret _anything_, Edward," she whispers and then presses her lips to mine before I can even release a breath in response.

I don't move at first, allowing her to take charge. She pushes her hands into my hair and tilts my head manually, giving herself better access. When her tongue sweeps across my lips, I become active, joining the kiss with just as much passion. I run my hands up, around to her back and hold her to me, trying not to hold her too tightly, though I feel like I should be gripping her to me with all I've got so she'll never leave.

We're both breathing heavily when she pulls away after what had to have been a full ten-minute make out session. She rests her forehead to mine, arms back to being hooked around my neck, as she gazes into my eyes. "Please don't think I don't want to be with you again," she whispers. "Because I do. _So much._"

My brow furrows. "But Thursday..."

Her eyes close as she sighs. "I'm sorry about that. And about how I've been lately. I've just... I've been going through some things. At home." She keeps her eyes closed and stays silent after that. I wait and I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn't.

"Tell me," I whisper, rubbing her back to hopefully show my support. To prove to her that I'm here to listen to _anything_ she has to say. Her eyes open and I'm concerned to see they're glassy, like she's holding back tears.

"It's my mom."


	41. Chapter 41: 'It's my mom' (Bella POV)

**A/N: There's no _Previously_, because of the change in POV, so there is a slight overlap between the end of the last chapter (starts from their kiss) and the beginning of this** **one...**

**Thank you for all the reviews! I think the previous chapter received the most reviews yet... the wonders of a cliffhanger! Sorry for not uploading this chapter yesterday; something you may need to know about me - my immune system is crap (if I could exchange it, I would) so I, as I like to call it, "crash" often. Ah well, enough about that. Please enjoy!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-one: 'It's my mom' (Bella POV)

_Saturday 8 July 2017_

I'm the one to break the kiss, and the reason for that is a mixture of a lack of air, and the fact that I want to assure Edward that he is _so_ wrong. I can't believe he thinks I regret it. I've only been trying to keep him from seeing my bruises... but he doesn't know that. And now, in the meantime, I've hurt him. _Shit._

Keeping our faces as close together as possible, I gaze into his now dark green eyes - I love the way they change shade due to his arousal - wanting him to see how much I truly mean what I'm about to say. Still slightly breathless, I can only manage a whisper. "Please don't think I don't want to be with you again. Because I do. _So much_."

I feel his brow furrow against my forehead. "But Thursday..."

_Damn_. I really _have_ confused him. I close my eyes on a sigh. "I'm sorry about that. And about how I've been lately. I've just..." What I say next isn't planned; it just slips out. "I've been going through some things. At home." I keep my eyes closed, instantly feeling like I've made a mistake. _Why did I just say that? _Crap! Maybe if I keep my eyes closed and stay completely silent, he won't push for more.

Oh, who am I kidding? This is Edward, the most stubborn person I've ever met.

"Tell me," he whispers, and I feel his hand begin to rub my back soothingly. It feels like he's trying to coerce the words out of me.

I have to open my eyes. I know I do. But I'm scared, because I can feel the sting of tears approaching. If I start to cry, then all will be lost. I won't be able to hold back, and that's bad. _Really _bad, because though I want to, I cannot tell Edward about what happens at home. I just _can't. _No one can know. Not even him, the person I trust most of all in this world. _No one_.

I open my eyes anyway, knowing I need to before he can start soothing me other ways, like start telling me that I can tell _him _anything. I said that to him earlier, and it's the truth. He _can _tell me anything. But it's not a two way street. I _can't _reciprocate... no matter how much I may want to.

I look back into his eyes and the concern that is residing there is palpable. The concern, the tenderness, the pleading. All that I can see in his eyes works like a barrier between my brain and mouth, and what I say next is unintentional. Again, like before, it just slips out.

"It's my mom."

As soon as the words leave my mouth I want to take them back. To inhale them, swallow them whole and pretend like they were never uttered. My eyes grow wide, while Edward's just grow more concerned. His brow furrows once more.

"What about her?" he asks quietly. I pull my head away from his, looking away before the genuine concern he has for me can break me. I can feel it chipping away at my resolve, my resistance, like it's nothing more than an ice block.

"N-nothing. I'm just being silly," I mumble quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear. I begin pulling away completely, lifting up onto one knee to remove myself from his lap.

Getting _onto._his lap was a rash decision, something I felt like I had to do in that moment. I could see his defeat, his intention to flee, and I knew that I _had_ to stop him. Somehow. Sitting on him and _physically_ stopping him seemed like the best option at the time.

Though now I'm not so sure. Because, though this position worked in _my_ favour earlier, it's having the opposite affect right now. Edward's hands quickly shift from my back to my thighs. I jump slightly at the feel of his warm hands on my bare legs. There's a slight chill in the air, but it's that summer chill that is so common in Forks. It's almost _warm_. Having lived here all of my life, this is one of the rare occasions I can dress like we're in California, like the sun is blazing. So I have put one of my rare pairs of denim shorts on today, and a loose-fitted dark blue t-shirt.

He presses down on my thighs with splayed hands, holding me down and stopping me from leaving. I glare at him. "Don't. You didn't let my problems just slip by without an explanation and you can think again if I'm gonna be any different." The conviction he speaks with is enough to squash all my hopes of getting out of this.

Why did I say that?

What is wrong with me?

I definitely can't tell him what is _r__eally_ the matter at home. So what do I say that would satisfy him?

"I told you, it's nothing," I insist, trying to buy myself more time. He doesn't verbally push, but he adds a fraction more pressure to my thighs with his hands and tilts his head, a single eyebrow arched, waiting. I sigh. "It's just my mom," I repeat.

"Yes, you've said that. What about her? Is she sick?"

I shake my head.

"Then what is it?"

I look down. "She's going away," I say quietly.

"Away? Like... to p-prison?" I quickly look up to see his wide eye expression. _She would if you knew what _really _went on at home!_

"_No_! I say she's going away and that's the first thing you think of? That she's going to _prison_?" I can't help my astonishment. His cheeks burn red, tinting with his embarrassment. "I mean she's going away _with a friend_."

"_Ooh,_" he briefly looks away. When his eyes meet mine again, his embarrassment is concealed and all I see is confusion. "Why is that an issue?"

I huff and try harder to climb off of him. "See? I knew you wouldn't understand!" I growl in frustration when his hands yet again prevent me from leaving. "Why can't you just let it go! I _told _you I was being silly."

"No, you're not."

"Well you obviously think so!"

I know I'm being unfair. This isn't the reason I've been acting a bit _strange_, as Edward put it, recently. But it's the only excuse I could think of that would hopefully placate his incessant need to know what my problem has been. I feel silly using it as an excuse, and it's not his fault that I'm lying, but he's the only one here to take my anger out on.

I try removing myself from his lap a third time. "Edward!" I shout, angered as he once again stops me. "Let me go!"

"No," he says just as firmly as me, but without the anger and rise in volume. He's calm but firm. I just glare at him. "I don't think you're silly, Bella. Just explain to me why you're upset about your mom going away."

I stay stubbornly silent. He sighs.

"Fine. We'll work in baby steps. How long is she going away for?"

"A week," I answer grumpily. He smirks at my sulking but nods at my answer.

"When?"

"What?" I know exactly what.

And he knows that I know. "When is she leaving, Bella?" he asks, his attempt to keep his frustration hidden poor.

"Monday," I answer, my guilt at lying and the fact that I'm causing him to be angry with me forcing the answer from me. "She'll be back Saturday."

"And you'll be all alone?" he asks, no longer sounding confused or frustrated. Just concerned. He's back to being concerned. About me. And I just lied. _God, I don't deserve him in my life_.

I realise now that this may be easier if I allow him to guess as he just did. He may be able to answer the questions for me. So, with that in mind, I nod at his question nonverbally.

"Is that the problem? That you'll be alone?" he asks and I nod again, wordless. "Oh, Bella," he sighs and pulls me into a hug. I rest my cheek on his shoulder, my face turned away from him. As I gaze out at the trees, folded into the embrace of the only person that truly cares for me, my guilt is like a weight inside me.

"I'm sorry," I murmur quietly, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. Probably hearing the emotion in my voice, Edward pushes me back gently with a hand to my shoulder. When he sees the tear, he's quick to brush it away with his thumb.

"What are you apologising for?" he asks, worried green meeting sorrowful brown. I stare, silent for a few moments.

_For lying. I'm so sorry for lying to you, Edward._

"Just for acting strange," I eventually answer, looking down. I feel his hand at my chin and don't resist as he raises my head.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Bella. Just let me know when you have a problem. Let me in." He'll never know how much I want to do as he asks. He'll never know how much I _can't _do as he asks.

His soft smile is hard to reciprocate but I do. I can only manage it briefly however, and I drag him back toward me for a hug, both because I need to hide my face before the smile falls and simply because I want to.

We stay like that for a while. I don't know how long exactly. With me straddling his lap and our arms around each other. At some point, I turn my head away from the meadow, pressing my face into his neck. In response, he tightens his arms around me. They are completely folded around my midsection, so when he squeezes me tighter, the hand laying on my left side pushes into my ribs, into the edge of the bruising that is the whole reason I've had to lie in the first place. It's all I can do not to cry out in pain, and as a substitute for the fact that I can't audibly express my pain, I tighten my arms which are wrapped around his shoulders.

He loosens his arms again at the ringing of a cell phone, and I've never had such conflicting emotions inside me at one time. I'm both angry at the ringing for disrupting our moment, and thankful for the chance to be released from the pain.

I pull back and we both reach for our phones. Mines in my bag which is to my right, acting as a weight on the edge of the blanket. Edward's is in his pocket, and I have to lift one leg while he gets it out. He's quick to push my leg back down again, throwing me a warning look, daring me to just _try _and get up again.

We check our phones simultaneously. It's not his, that's easy to see by the way he tosses it down to the blanket beside us. The ringing phone is mine.

It's my mom.

I need to answer before it rings off; she hates it when I don't answer on her first try. But first, I need to put some distance between me and Edward, so he can't hear what could very well be an angry woman shouting at me down the phone.

I should've known he wouldn't let me get off. I try and, identical to all the times before, his hands stop me. I give him a pleading look, and I can see him deciding if he should or not. Unfortunately, I can't wait for that decision to be made. It's about to ring off. I have to answer.

My thumb trembles as it slides the green button across the screen. I quickly bring the phone to my ear before the shouting can begin.

"Isabella?" she asks, though I don't know why she says my name in that questioning tone. She's the one who called me. There's no shouting so far.

"Yes," I reply, hating the dryness of my voice. I clear my throat.

"Where are you?" she asks. _This is new._

"I-I'm with Edward," I answer. Edward is pretending to not be listening. He's playing with a lock of my hair, which I've left down today.

"That's not what I asked. I didn't ask who you were with, I asked where you are," she says in a clipped tone. She manages to keep her volume down, which wouldn't have been the case if she thought I were alone I'm sure.

"I'm at his house." At that Edward glances at me. I pull a face as if to say _I'll explain,_ and he goes back to fiddling with my hair.

"How long will you be out?"

"I don't know," I say, pulling the phone away from my ear to quickly check the time on it's display, "a couple hours? Why, do you need me back for something?" I have to be careful about what words I use. I don't want to raise any suspicion in Edward's mind. After all the lying I've just done, this isn't a hard task to accomplish.

"I can't pack my bags for next week. I'm too busy. You'll have to do it," she replies, hypocritically - technically, she didn't answer my question.

"O-okay. Shall I come back now?"

"No no," she answers quickly. "Stay with your boyfriend." I turn my head away from Edward, so my phone is farther from him. I really hope he didn't hear that. "You can do it when you get back."

"Okay." She hangs up. "Bye," I say into the dead phone, pretending to end the call myself. Luckily Edward is still focusing on my hair and doesn't see that the call has already ended and I really just press the back button, not the red one. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," he says, letting go of my hair and placing his hands high up on my thighs, so their resting on the denim instead of my skin. "She was just checking up on you?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Sorry I had to lie," I say, mentally apologising for more than the lie I told my mother a moment ago. "She doesn't know about this place."

"It's cool. I understand. If I had a place like this, I wouldn't want to share it with anyone," he says as he looks around. "Apart from you, of course," he adds with a wink in my direction. I smile and join him in his appraisal of what I guess is now 'our' place. "You know who would love it here though..." he wonders aloud thoughtfully. It's worded as a question, but his tone of voice suggests otherwise so I stay silent. "Alan," he finishes after more gandering.

My eyes widen nervously. My silence must grab his attention, because he immediately stops looking around at the scenery and instead looks at me. My terror must be plain to see, because he's quick to placate me.

"I won't bring him here. I promise!" he vows, rubbing his hands up and down my arms from the shoulders to the elbows as he says it. I instantly sag in relief. "I would _never_ show anyone this place. Especially not without your permission. I was just thinking out loud. He'd love it, you know, 'cause of all the plants and flowers."

Now I know he was only speaking figuratively, I can relax and contemplate his verbalised thought. He's right. Alan, who owns his own florist and has been a gardener for most of his life, would _love_ this place. It _almost _makes me feel bad for keeping it all to myself (and Edward).

I look at the bursts of colour that blanket the dominating green. "I bet he could name all of the flowers here," Edward says, still thinking aloud.

I look to him now. "I can name _most _of them," I say, not feeling the slight bit embarrassed at the pride I hear in my own voice.

"Yeah right," Edward scoffs. I lean back, putting on my best offended face. He just laughs. "Sorry, Bella, but I don't believe it. There is _so_ much wildlife here. _Most_? Really?"

"Yes!" I insist. "Well, I don't know their scientific names. Each plant has scientific name that is Latin and usually has two parts. It was too hard to remember all of those, but I know a majority of their common names."

He regards me for a few seconds with a calculative look before narrowing his eyes at me. "I'll still be impressed if you can tell me their common names."

I nod, accepting the challenge, and begin getting up. "Right. Come on th-"

"Uh uh." He shakes his head and surprises me by holding me to him by my hips. I guess my thighs weren't enough leverage this time. "You can tell me from here," he says with a cheeky grin and I roll my eyes, though secretly I'm pleased that he wants me to stay this close. Though I am starting to feel a strain along my inner thigh and my knees are going a bit numb; I have been sat like this for a while now.

"Okay." I look around. "You see the yellow ones that are mostly over there, in the taller grass? The yellow clusters?" I ask, pointing to a large area behind him. He looks over his shoulder and nods. "They're called Lady's bedstraw." Edward turns to give me a questioning look. "They smell of hay," I explain and he nods. "Um," I look about us some more. "The tall-ish white ones you see around, the clusters of flathead white flowers? They're Yarrow. I love them because they remind me of my Nana Swan." Edward smiles gently and waits for me to explain. "She used to have them in her back garden. She grew all sorts but those were some of her favourites. She told me once, that centuries ago, the Yarrow flowers were used as a charm against bad luck and illness. But they were believed to cause nosebleeds if you were to put them up your nose."

"Who would do that?"

I shrug and laugh lightly. "I don't know, it's just something she told me. I wasn't even sure it were true until I read about it myself." He continues to smile at me as I look around. "Oh! You see that small group of pink ones there?"

"Oh yeah, I've noticed them a few times. They look like bright pink droopy daisies." I laugh at his explanation, which is spot on.

"They do! And it's funny you should say that 'cause they're actually part of the daisy family. They're called Coneflowers. Pretty self explanatory with their orangey cone-like centers. They thrive in full sun, which is why there is only a small group of them and why they're almost directly in the center of the meadow. I always avoid putting my blanket down there so I don't cramp their style. On the nicest days here they attract butterflies. It's beautiful to see."

I gaze at them for a while, only breaking my focus on them as Edward begins speaking. "Well, I'm impressed. But there's only one problem." I frown and raise a brow, silently asking what this so called problem is. He smirks wickedly. "How do I know all of this is true?" he asks. I roll my eyes. "You could be making it up. I have no way of knowing." He's teasing me, that's easy to tell.

"Shut up, you ass. It's all true. You can check when you get home if you don't believe me," I say, crossing my arms.

"Yes, but how will I find the correct names if all you've told me is a bunch of made-up gibberish. I can't possibly find the exact-"

I grab his face with both of my hands and shut him up by kissing him. He instantly quietens, wrapping his arms around me. I shift slightly on my knees, and Edward tenses. I know what _that _means; I would know even if his growing hardness hadn't just brushed up against me. I make sure not to tense - I don't want to hurt his feelings again - but I do slow our kisses and pull away.

I shift on my knees again as I try climbing off of him. He goes to stop me but I don't let him this time, shaking my head. "I've been sat like this for a while; my legs are starting to cramp," I explain, hoping he'll just accept my words and not be _too_ hurt that I've pulled away before this can get any further.

We may have cleared up a lot in our conversation today, but that doesn't change the fact we still can't do more than kiss for the time being. It makes me feel bad for being the one to start it this time.

He let's me move. Actually, he helps me move, guiding me to sit directly beside him, so my front is facing his side. I'm confused by this until he grabs my legs and lifts them until they're resting over his. He remains sat up but pushes at my shoulder until I'm led down across the blanket. Then he begins gently massaging my legs.

I lay my right arm over my closed eyes, just enjoying the peacefulness and the therapeutic feeling of his hands working the cramps out of my legs. I wasn't lying when I gave him that excuse; they really are quite sore.

"How did you know all of that?" he asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence after a while. I remove my arm from my eyes and shield them with that hand as I look up at him.

"I've been coming here for a long time now. Over four years. I got curious about all the flowers and plants and found a book in the school library one day. I came here with it about four months after I first found this place and spent the day learning all that I could." I think back to that day, almost four years ago now. _It was actually my thirteenth birthday when I did that_, I remember.

Edward's hands stop moving on my legs. I glance at him. He's staring at me, looking appalled. "You didn't spend your thirteenth birthday _alone_, did you?" he asks, his hatred at the idea of it clear in his voice. _I said that out loud?_

All I can do is nod dumbly, still shocked with myself for saying that out loud. _So much for not arousing suspicion._

"Bella! That's awful! You spent your birthday here? _Alone_?" His facial expression still hasn't changed from that horrified, gaping one he's had on his face for a full two minutes now.

"It wasn't that bad," I say meekly.

"When is your birthday?" he asks suddenly, like the thought just occurred to him. His look of horror transforms into a rueful one.

"September 13th," I reply.

"Right. On your next birthday, your seventeenth, I'm making it my personal mission to give you the best birthday you've ever had!" he declares like he's one of those guys that stands by the door, announcing guests at a ball.

I have no words for that. I just smile widely at him, and he smiles back.

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**A/N: I understand this isn't what some of you expected, or maybe not even how you wanted this conversation to go, but there's still time yet, and what you were expecting or wanting this time will come... perhaps soon? ;) I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know in a review!**

**Quick side note: I am no expert on flowers, plants and nature. All that's said about the meadow in this chapter is information I got off the Internet.**


	42. Chapter 42: 'Push the boundaries' (EPOV)

**A/N: Please read the bottom Author's Note. Enjoy!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-two: 'push the boundaries' (Edward POV)

_Sunday 9 July 2017_

I pace outside the closed double doors for a long time, trying to build up the courage to knock, trying to piece together how I'm going to word my request.

On the other side of these doors is my father. He's probably sat at his desk, going over a patient's files or reading one of his many medical books. He spends most of the time that he isn't at work in his home office. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. Having the job he does, he works a lot. He'd be called away half way through dinner on many occasions during my childhood, he'd miss basketball games and he was late to pick me up from piano lessons more times than he was ever actually on time. He made an effort; that showed in the fact that he even came to pick me up at all. He could have hired someone else to do it, could have even asked Bev. But most of the time, it seemed like even when he was at home, he was working. I don't know if it was by choice or because he had to.

For as long as I can remember, I've never been allowed in his home office. I stepped foot in the one at the house in Chicago a total of three times in our time there. Two of those were when I was barely of an age to have begun school and I snuck in to sit at his desk. I "played doctor", as Bev called it. The second of those two times, he caught me in there and that's when he started locking it religiously. The third and final time was when he called me in to see him; he was telling me off for stealing one of Alice's dolls for the umpteenth time (I only ever stole her dolls twice, the other times she simply lost them - honestly!).

The number of times I've stepped foot in this study is zero. Not once. Now, here I stand - actually, here I _pace_ \- outside his study, worried that this will be a big mistake but knowing that out of my two options, this is the best one.

My other option would be to go to my mother, but knowing what this is about, I can predict how _that _would end. Any result from going to my father instead would be _ten_ times better than speaking to her. I have no doubt about that.

Finally, I have worried myself to the max and have no hesitation as I turn abruptly and knock with two sharp raps of my knuckles against the door on the right-hand side. There's no answer for several long seconds - they probably seem longer than they actually were - and then I hear that familiar voice call for me to enter.

I do, briefly looking around. This office is definitely better than his last. It has wooden shelves and wooden furniture. Compared to the glossy white and glass topped furnishings of the Chicago one, this is much warmer. Much more inviting.

I look to the man behind the desk, who's gazing at me with acute surprise over the glasses he has perched on the end of his nose. "What can I do for you, Edward?" he asks me before glancing down at the open file on his desk.

I rub my slightly clammy hands against my jeans as I walk further into the room, stopping in between the two chairs that face his desk.

"I was, um, wondering if I could ask you something?"

He looks back up to me, taking his glasses off as he gives me his attention. "Well, what is it?"

I sit down. Another rub of my hands against my thighs.

"It's about Bella," I say quietly, gouging his reaction. He drops the paper he was holding, and places the glasses he still had in his hand - obviously he wasn't expecting this to take long - on top of the paper.

"What about her?" His question lacks the emotion he spoke with only moments ago. That only serves to make me more nervous.

"Well, um, you see, Bella's mom, Renee... she's going away with a friend next week. Bella will be all alone... and I, well, I was wondering if maybe she could possibly stay here? With us?" There's no taking it back now, though by the miniscule widening of my father's green eyes and the crinkling of his forehead, I start to wonder why I tried asking for this at all.

The idea came to me as Bella and I were walking back from the meadow toward my house yesterday afternoon. I never mentioned it to Bella, knowing that there was a mighty strong possibility that my parents wouldn't allow it. Still, I wanted to try. The idea that she'll be in that house all alone for almost six days is terrifying. This is a relatively safe town, not much happens in terms of crime, but still, it's not good for her to be alone for so long. If she were here with us, I'd know for sure that she'll be safe. It would make my week much easier, and hers too I have no doubt.

It wasn't really a tough decision for me to make when it came to choosing which parent I came to about this. I could have easily asked them both at the same time, but when it comes to my parents, you can never get an entirely truthful response from them when they're together. They hide behind one another, balancing their feelings on one another until you have no clue who's idea or who's answer it truly was. Some would say it's sweet that they can work so well together. I say it's annoying, especially when you want a clear, _true_ answer.

I had no trouble choosing my father over my mother. He, especially recently, has shown a _little _more leniency when it's come to all things Bella. Not much, but a little. I notice how he's not as harsh about her as my mother is, and he tends to refer to her by her nickname rather than her full name whenever he mentions her - which is rare. _Sometimes_, he seems genuinely curious about her. I won't go as far as saying he likes her, nor is he fond of her, but he doesn't hate the mere _thought _of her like my mother does. Going to _her_ about this would have been a grave mistake. I wouldn't still be sat here waiting for an answer, that's for sure. It would have been a clear cut 'No' from her at the very mention of Bella's name.

My father considers my request for a long time. It feels almost as long as the length of time I was pacing outside.

Eventually, he moves from his thoughtful frozen state and pinches the bridge of his nose. Uh oh. That's not a good sign. It's what he does whenever he's frustrated with himself.

"I'm sorry, Edward, but that wouldn't be fair to your mother," he finally says. My shoulders fall. I'm not at all placated by the authentic apologetic tone in his voice.

"But..." I don't know what to say. Is there even any point in arguing? "Are you not even going to _try_ to talk to her about it?" I ask, already knowing it's a ridiculous question.

My father tilts his head and raises a brow. "Do you think that's a good idea, Edward? It's no secret that your mother doesn't like Bella much. It wouldn't be fair to either of them." I must look confused because he is quick to elaborate. "It wouldn't be fair to your mother or your friend. It would bring a horrible atmosphere into the house. You can go over to hers as much as you like during the week, as long as you stick to your curfew. There is no issue there. But having her stay here... I'm sorry, son, it's out of the question."

I sigh but nod, knowing he's right. It would make all of us, including Bella, miserable. My next thought is to ask if I can stay at Bella's for the week, the thought very appealing to me, but I know _that_ request would be met with instant refusal from my dad. He's already stated I have to stick to curfew.

"Do you think she could come for dinner one night at least?" I ask hopefully.

He stares at me, in deep thought before he nods slowly. "I don't see why not."

"Will Mom be okay with that?"

"Will I be okay with _what_?" I twist in the seat to look behind me, startled by the unexpected appearance of my mother. She sashays into the room, stopping once she's beside Dad. "Honey?" she asks after neither of us answer her, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Edward was just telling me that B-... that Isabella will be home alone all of next week and was wondering if she could come for dinner?" _Wise_, I think to myself, _best not mention my first question to her._

My mother scoffs. "I most definitely am not okay with that," she states firmly. _Oh crap_. I look to my dad helplessly, begging him with my eyes to persuade her.

"Edward, could you leave us, please. Your mother and I need to talk." I'm hesitant to leave, scared that she'll win and Bella won't be able to come at all, but I do as I'm told and after sending my father another pleading look, I step out of the room.

I decide to hang about close by as I wait for a final answer to whether Bella will be staying for dinner sometime next week or not. I sit in the family room for a while, flicking mindlessly through the channels. The TV is turned back off soon after. I migrate to the kitchen and busy myself with making a midafternoon snack. I would call Bella and speak to her to pass the time, but she told me she'd be busy today. Doing what, I have no clue, she wouldn't answer me when I asked. Her lame response of "just this and that" honestly didn't surprise me. After the few hours we spent together at her meadow yesterday, after that conversation, I've decided to accept that Bella reveals things in small doses. I can be patient. I can handle that.

After an hour and still my parents haven't emerged from the office, I give up waiting and go down to my room.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

_Monday 10 July 2017_

I was banned from mentioning my request at dinner last night by my mother. She said we'd talk about it tomorrow (today now). The inconspicuous nod of the head my father sent my way after she said that is the only thing that stopped me from pleading to know the verdict right then and there. What that barely visible nod indicated to me, is that Bella will be allowed to come for dinner.

Now I'm sat with them both at the dining table. We've just had lunch. Alice is out with her friends today, so it's just been me and my parents. Bella's busy - _again_.

I wait for either of them to speak up. It's a long wait.

"Edward," my mother begins. This is actually a surprise; I thought, and was _hoping_, that my father would take the lead. "Before we agree to what you've asked for, I would like to ask you some questions." I glance at my father, but his face is neutral, revealing nothing. Looking back to my mother, I nod and wait, wondering what the hell she could possibly need to ask me.

She gracefully sets her shoulders back, placing her hands in front of her on top of the table, fingers from one hand folded over the fingers from the other. She is the epitome of grace and decorum, and I am the personification of confusion.

"Edward," she says tenderly, "how much longer do you think this... _friendship_ will last?"

I sit back in my chair, physically taken aback by her question. Dad places his hand on her arm, and I don't know if that's because he's shocked by her question too, or if he's just showing her support.

"What do you mean?" I ask, my words barely leaving my mouth as a whisper in my shock.

"What I just said. How long do you predict you'll be friends with Isabella Swan?"

"I... I hadn't really put a time frame on it," I answer, followed by a breathless, shocked stagger of laughs. I glance to my father again, but his attention is on his wife, who hasn't removed her unnerving stare from me since she began speaking.

"So you don't know?" she asks, seeking clarification. In my shock, which isn't abating even the slightest, all I can do is shake my head. "Aren't you getting bored with her?" My mouth is gaping wide open.

"Es," _now _my father speaks, and it's in a hushed warning.

"What?" she asks him, though she barely glances his way. "I'm just curious as to how long our son thinks he needs to keep this act up."

"It's not an act," I say, finally finding my voice.

"Please, Edward. I know you've always tried to push the boundaries. You've always been a _little _rebellious, but this has gone on long enough. I've allowed you to spend time with her. My goodness, I even allowed her into my home. But now you're expecting me to have her at my dinner table and eat a meal with her, as if she were one of our own? That is stepping _beyond_ the boundaries. How can you not see the wrong in you even being _seen_ with that-"

"Es!" The warning isn't so hushed this time and the hand he placed on her arm isn't simply resting against it now. He's wrapped his hand around her wrist and has a stern look on his face. I glance between the two of them, sensing the tension.

My mother's words reverberate in my mind, like the ball in a pinball machine. I've not been rebellious, have I?

"Carlisle, he needs to see reason. I didn't want us to move to a small town such as Forks just to have our son embarrass us like this." She turns to me. "Edward, I understand you didn't approve of us moving away from Chicago, but don't you think you've punished me long enough?" When I stay silent, frowning are her, she sighs impatiently and looks back to my dad. "_Alice _had the good sense to go for the best possible choices in this town, but your son went for the _worst_ possible choice."

Before my father can reply, I stand abruptly, my chair rocking back onto it's hind legs and threatening to fall due to the force with which I stand.

"She's not the _worst _choice at all. She's the closest person to me. The only friend I've ever had that actually knows the real me. Do you think I could be as close to _anyone_ that you deem 'worthy' as I am with her? No, I couldn't, because they're all too much like the people I am constantly surrounded by! Too much like Alice. Too much like-"

"That's enough, Edward," my father says, though not in one of his harsh, baritone warnings he so frequently dishes out to me when I show even an ounce of the vehemence I've just spoken with. He does send me a warning look however. I slowly sit back down as he turns to my ashen faced mother. "Es, dear, I don't think having her here for _one _meal would be too much trouble, do you?"

She turns her undivided attention to him, her shock detectable in the way her hand drifts to her chest and her eyes widen. He grabs the hand attached to the wrist he's been holding and encases it gently on top of the table with both of his own.

"You agreed yesterday, didn't you? Let's not cause any turmoil between ourselves by arguing over this. Edward obviously enjoys Isabella's company. And for however long that lasts for, we must try to accommodate it, don't you think? It's only _one _meal. It's not like he asked for her to spend the entire week with us." With his closing sentence, he glances at me with the briefest of looks, but it's enough to have me battling a smirk.

"I guess so," she says dejectedly, looking down at their joined hands. She sighs and turns to me, her ire at the situation she's been forced into clear in her gaze. "Fine. She can come. Wednesday would be best. It's when Beverly will be in charge of the meal. At least then I won't have to waste time cooking for the girl." And with that she pulls her hand from my father's, stands and leaves without looking at either one of us, her head held high.

As soon as she's out of the room, I turn to my father. "Thank you," I say quietly. All he does is nod wordlessly, stand and leave, heading in the opposite direction to my mother.

I sigh and sag back into the chair. If only they, especially my mother, didn't dislike her so much. This would be a much tastier success.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"May I be excused?" I ask politely after wiping my mouth with a napkin. My parents both nod at me and I stand from the table, tucking in my chair. After taking my plate and glass to the kitchen, I head back to the dining room, poking my head around the corner. "I have a headache, so do you mind if I just call it a night? You didn't have any plans for the three of us did you?" I ask them. Alice is still out with her friends. She called to say she'll be back late. My parents, of course, had no problems with this. She can do _anything_ she wants. _Her _friends come over for dinner almost every week.

They look at each other, before turning back to me and shaking their heads. "No, nothing planned. You go rest," my father says, looking concerned, the doctor in him coming out of it's barely concealed shell as he assesses me visibly, looking for signs of an ailment.

He won't find any. And if he had a machine that could read headaches, he wouldn't find anything still, because I don't have one.

I nod, put on my best pained face as I rub my head and leave them. I casually walk down the stairs, though they can't see me now. As soon as my foot leaves the bottom step, I speedwalk to my bedroom, locking the door behind me.

I grab my coat from my wardrobe, and my smallest backpack which I quickly pack with my phone charger, composition book and just in case, some condoms.

After putting on my shoes and pocketing my phone, I sneak out the back door of my room. I've never been so thankful that my bedroom has a door that leads straight into our backyard. I didn't bother bringing my car keys with me, knowing I wouldn't be able to use it. The only key I have on me is my backdoor key, which I slide into the front pocket of my bag before jogging to the trees about 100 yards from the side of the house.

It's only 6:45PM, so technically I'm not breaking curfew, but after the day we've had, especially the conversation earlier, I didn't want to _push the boundaries_ and blatantly leave the house. They'd know exactly where I was going. _See? I'm not rebellious._

I stick close to the driveway but on the _other _side of the trees, staying out of sight until I'm clear of the house. Then I begin my leisurely stroll to Bella's house.

She doesn't know I'm coming. It's a total surprise, as my news will be, too. I didn't let her know I was asking if she could stay with us for a week - and I'm glad I didn't because that got rejected. But I also didn't let her know that I've asked if she can come for dinner. I'm sure she'll be very grateful. It's going to suck for her to be eating alone, though I'm hoping my parents won't mind me spending a few dinners at Bella's house this week. I don't intend to leave her alone the entire time. That would be cruel.

I get more and more excited as I get closer to Bella's house, but my steps falter when I reach her street. Before we parted ways Saturday, Bella told me that her mom was leaving work early today, so there is no reason her car should be parked in their drive way. Like it is right now.

I stop across the street and see several lights on. The bottom rooms, the kitchen and front room, are both lit up, though the curtains are closed for each. And Bella's light is on, too, in the top left corner room. Her curtains are closed part way. She hasn't drawn them completely, so they're not meeting in the middle. I smirk, suddenly getting a fantastic idea. I cross the road and stop at the base of the tree that stands directly in front of her window.

I assess it for a few moments. It doesn't look too hard to climb. It's got many limbs that start from quite low on the trunk, thankfully. Perfect for climbing.

I make sure my bag is secure on my back before pulling myself up with a low hanging branch and placing my foot on a knot in the trunk.

It doesn't take me long to climb the tree. There's a limb that extends to not much more than half a meter in front of Bella's window. I scoot across it slowly, focusing on my movements. Once I'm sure it's not going to snap and I'm in no danger of breaking a bone by falling, I look into Bella's bedroom.

What I see shocks me more than anything my mother said today.

Bella's sat on the edge of her bed, body facing the window with her head hung forward, yet her shoulders are pushed back so she is sat perfectly straight. She'd be naked on her top half if it weren't for the black bra she is wearing. But her state of undress is not what has my mouth dropping open. It's the large brown and yellow bruise on the left side of her ribs, which she covers up with what looks like an ice pack five seconds later.

What the fuck?!

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**A/N: I apologise for what I'm about to say...**

**There's going to be a little break between this chapter and the next one because of Christmas time and New Year. I'll be back on Friday the 3rd of January 2020 with Chapter 43. I am so sorry that it's ending here. I hate that I've left it on a cliffy but it's just the way the chapters fell on the dates. I always planned to take a break for the festivities on this date, but I am so sorry about how it's ended and what you have to wait for.**

**Despite the fact that I've ended it on a cliffy until the 3rd of Jan 2020, did you enjoy this chapter? Things are developing now. What do you think will happen? Let me know in a review! When I come back, it will be with a Bella POV, so you'll find out the events leading up to the moment that this one ended.**

**Thank you all for reading! **

**I wish you all have a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year! Enjoy your celebrations and I'll see ****you all again in 2020!**


	43. Chapter 43: 'The moment of truth' (BPOV)

**A/N: Hey! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year. It's official; we're in the next decade!**

**As promised, I'm back with a brand new chapter! Thank you all so much for the reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying my story. I do have something else to say, but I'll wait until the end of this chapter, so don't forget to check the bottom A/N before you leave. Thanks again and please enjoy!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-three: 'The moment of truth' (Bella POV)

_Monday 10 July 2017_

One minute I'm peacefully sleeping on a sofa I haven't been able to sit on for years, and the next I'm drenched in ice cold water, as well as pelted in the face with several really hard rocks... that's what it feels like at least.

I wake with a loud gasp, it's volume rivalling that of the TV that is still on. I must have fallen asleep whilst watching it. I wrench myself into a sitting position as I wipe furtively at my wet face, and then dab tenderly at the dip where my nose meets my cheek not far beneath my eye, then at my left cheekbone and finally at my chin.

"I see how it is."

Those words make me freeze. I must be dreaming. That menacing voice and it's equally menacing owner should be on their way to God knows where, or perhaps settling into a hotel or motel or whatever. I wasn't given any specifics. They should definitely _not _be in this room with me. _She_* should not be in this room with me.

Yet, when I open my eyes, squinting past the water that's dropping down from my hair, I clamp eyes on her. Her legs are spread shoulder width apart, her entire frame is vibrating in her obvious anger. In her right hand she holds an empty jug, the droplets shining from the inside the only sign that it recently held something. I glance down at myself and at the couch and cushion I had my head on, all of which are soaked in water. An ice cube, though it's more of an ice _chip_ now as it rapidly melts, adding to the moisture, lies on the edge of the cushion. That must be one of the 'rocks' that hit me in the face. I can't see any of the others. She chucked ice cold water over me and didn't even have the decency to remove the ice beforehand. Am I surprised? Hell no!

"You think I'm gone and see that as a green light to do as you please. To sit on _my_ couch, watch _my_ television. That would have been bad enough all on its own but you had to go and make it worse for yourself, didn't you, Isabella!" All I can do is gape up at her, my face pulsing a dull throb in three different places. "What have I told you about wasting my electricity!"

I gulp and glance at the TV, which is still on, and then back to her. "I-I'm sorry. It was an accident."

The jug drops from her hand with a muted thud as it lands on the carpet. "Fuck sorry! You know the rules, Isabella. This is _my_ room and I pay hard earned money for the electricity. I do not expect to come home, which I've had to do thanks to a mistake _you've _made by the way, and see you violating my rules! I know I shouldn't have planned to leave you alone. You aren't mature enough, _trusted _enough for it to work out."

I stand shakily. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I won't come in here again unless it's to clean the room. It's just that I did all of my chores in the day today instead of the afternoon and evening and I was a little tired," I say, hating the trembling in my voice. "It won't happen again," I reiterate. It's the truth. I spent all of the day cleaning and completing my chores. Then I had work for an hour and barely had any energy to make myself some dinner before collapsing onto this couch ready to just relax and watch some TV. You wouldn't think I was a young, healthy 16 year old.

"Damn right it won't happen again. In fact..." she moves towards the TV and reaches behind it. I don't know what she's doing back there until she returns to her place in front of me, this time holding a cable in her right hand. She waves it in front of my face. "I'll be taking this with me," she goads. I show no emotion, not that I'm feeling much in this moment. Only really cold and really confused. She can take it with her if she likes. I won't be using this room _ever_ again. I shouldn't have even been in here in the first place, I know that now.

"Now, about your _first_ mistake which forced me back here to start with." I feel like I should be fleeing, but I have no clue what I've done wrong this time and a morbid part of me is curious. Besides, she wouldn't let me flee even if I wanted to. "I got all the way to my destination to _then _realise that you forgot to pack my toiletries."

_So she isn't going too far then? It's within driving distance._

My brow furrows. "N-no I didn't," I say earnestly. I _did_ pack her toiletries. I'm sure of it. She made me spend most of yesterday packing and repacking her bag. I spent an hour packing it the first time, but it wasn't done right, according to Renee. The second time I took extra care and switched some things out. Again, it wasn't correct. The third time I went over it all three times before beginning to pack it and then repacked it just to be sure. Still, this wasn't good enough. I was about ready to shout at her that _she _should do it, but I held back my temper, knowing _that_ would start up World War Three in this house.

On the fourth try, I finally did it right. She had a suitcase for most of her things, and a duffel bag, which is where I put her zip-up toiletry bag. I'm sure of it.

"Isabella, don't mistake me for a fool. You didn't pack that bag."

"B-but I did," I reply, daring to argue, albeit weakly. "Did you take it out to get ready this morning?" my words are weak, my voice resembling that of a mouse's squeak. I watch, suddenly regretting my words, as her eye twitches, her mouth deepening into a morose frown.

"Are you insinuating that this was _my _fault?!" she shouts, stepping into my personal space. I rapidly shake my head back and forth, though she's right, that's exactly what I just did. "You've got some nerve! Do you want a fracture in _this_ wrist to match the other one?!" she screams in my face as she snatches my right wrist in the trap of her hand, squeezing it tightly. I let out a little squeak, terror stealing my voice. She wouldn't, would she? There'd be no way for me to carry out _any_ of my chores if she did.

I try to keep my sigh of relief inward as she releases my wrist. I cradle it to my chest. "I don't have time for this. Where is that bag?"

I don't answer straight away, because I honestly don't know. Last time I saw it was when I was zipping up her duffel bag yesterday afternoon. "Um, try the bathroom?" It comes out as a question more than an answer.

She tuts and rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. If I could read minds, I'm sure I'd discover that she's mentally counting to ten right now. "Try..." she mutters darkly under her breath, mirroring my choice of words. "So you don't know," she asks quietly, looking at me. I shake my head. She tuts again and shakes her head, glancing away for a moment. And then, all of a sudden, she reaches out with her empty hand, which she curls into a fist, and pushes me to the couch. Her hand connects with my bruised ribs - how does she always manage to reconnect with old injuries? - so when I tumble backwards, it's with a cry of pain.

She looks down at me with a disgusted, _I-can't-believe-you're-my-child _kind of expression on her face. I've seen it plenty of times before. I think she's going to say something, but she doesn't. Instead, she shakes her head and turns to leave. At the door, she stops and looks at me, sweeping her eyes from my feet to my hair.

"Go to your room and dry yourself off. You're dripping water all over the place."

I look down at myself. I'm creating more of a problem, adding to the patches of water everywhere. When I glance back up, she's gone.

I quickly push myself up, clenching my eyes shut at the pull I feel in my ribs, and head for the kitchen. I grab myself an ice pack from the freezer, and make my way up to my room. I tiptoe past my mother's bedroom when I hear her tearing the place apart as she looks for the toiletry bag. I wonder if she's checked the bathroom like I suggested. Probably not; she'd hate to prove me right.

I quickly close my door and lean against it for a few seconds. I can hear her moving around from in here, through both of our doors. _Well, this week, which I thought was going to be super easy, is starting out just great!_

I sigh and pull my soaking t-shirt off, throwing it down to the floor on my way to my bed. I lift the chain that holds my key over my head and place it on the nightstand (ready for when I next use it, which will be soon by the looks of things) as I sit on the edge of my bed, in just my black bra and black leggings, and look down at myself. The bruise is still an eye sore but has lost its nasty blue/purple colour. My skin once again looks mouldy, with the brown and yellow blob spanning a large area of the left of my ribcage. In a hopeful attempt to prevent the bruise from reversing in its healing process thanks to my mother's handy work, I press the ice pack to the bruise and close my eyes.

My face, the three places where the ice cubes landed, still hurts a bit, but it's not too bad. They can't leave much of a mark, surely.

The noise stops in the room across the hall and I hear her loud footsteps as she heads downstairs, causing me to raise my head and open my eyes. What was once my intention to turn my head toward my door is stopped when I see the face of my best friend in my window. His mouth and eyes are wide open and he's staring right at my hands, which hold the ice pack to my ribs.

My heart instantly begins a rapid drumbeat within my chest. My breaths come in shallow pants of air. My eyes, which he slowly raises his gaze to meet, widen.

We stare at each other for God knows how long. _What the hell is he doing here? And why has he climbed the tree?_

I don't know what to do.

There's a section of my brain scrambling for excuses and ways to explain my bruise away - there's no way he _hasn't_ seen it. Another section of my brain is in agony as it freaks out that he's here... especially when Renee's in such a bad mood.

I _really_ don't know what to do.

I'm still fruitlessly searching for a way out of this predicament when he slowly raises a hand and knocks on my window. The sound echos around my room. It's like my room is a cavernous amplifier. People in the neighbouring towns could have heard that knock, it was so loud. At least it was to my ears. And _that _is what has me up off my bed and rushing toward my window. I quickly open it - luckily it doesn't open in a way that has him flying from the tree limb.

"What the hell are you doing here? And why are you in a tree?" I hiss, sounding like a nut job in my mad panic. He takes his eyes off of me only long enough to climb through my window. "No!" I protest when he has one leg in. "You can't come in." He doesn't listen - _of course he doesn't listen_ \- and soon he's stood in front of me, staring down at where one of my hands is still holding the ice pack to my ribs.

I turn away to close my window, and to quickly try to gather some courage. When I turn back to him, he's still staring at the ice pack.

"Edward!" I whisper harshly. His gaze snaps up to me. "What are you doing here?"

"Have you hurt your-" his normal volume answer is interrupted by my hushing him.

"Sshhh! Would you be quiet!" I hiss, glancing at my door nervously.

"Bella," he says at the same volume as before. My glare has him restarting at a whisper. "Bella, what did you do?"

"It's nothing. It was an accident," I answer, turning away and heading back toward my bed.

"Why is your hair all wet?"

_Shit._ I forgot about that in all the freaking out.

"I just had a shower," I lie stupidly.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Edward."

We're still whispering, even as he comes to sit beside me on the edge of my bed. "Can I see it?"

"No," is all I say. As long as I can keep him from seeing the bruise, I should be able to get away with this. I can actually feel myself calming.

And then the footsteps begin back up the stairs. My fright returns in tenfold. I panic.

"Quick. Get up," I hiss, pulling at his arm while still trying to hold the ice pack to my ribs. He does as I demand, _slowly_. Way too slowly. I look around anxiously. I can hear her in the bathroom. It's only a matter of seconds before she finds that bag, which I'm sure will be in there, and then possibly comes to my room. "Get in the closet!" I whisper. He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Come on! Move!" I'm struggling to stay quiet in my desperation. He moves, partially because I pull him along.

He doesn't make it to the closet. As my door bursts open, he has to quickly step behind it. Luckily my closet is behind my bedroom door (when the door is open), so he was in a safe area and will remain to be, as long as Renee doesn't go beyond the doorway.

She steps back, hand on the doorknob, as soon as the door is completely open when she sees how close I am to her. Her suspicion shows in her hazel gaze instantly. "Where are you going? I thought I told you to stay in your room."

I have to fight with every instinct I have to keep my eyes on her and not let them stray to Edward, who's stood only a few feet to my left. "I-I'm just going to get a towel. For my hair," I lie. I'd be feeling proud of myself for my quick thinking right now if I weren't so on edge.

I'm still visible to Edward. If I shifted my eyes to the left, he'd be visible to me. My mother is hidden from him by the door. It's a sticky situation, specifically because she has no idea he is in the room, so she's not going to be on her best behaviour like she has in the past when he's been here.

She nods but doesn't move. Instead, she holds up her toiletry bag in the air between us. "You were right. Thought you'd like to know, Miss Smart Ass. It _was _in the bathroom." She steps forward with one foot so she's closer to me, her face just close enough for me to smell the faint scent of alcohol on her breath. "Don't expect any rewards. All this makes me think is that you _did_ know where it was. And you know what that means, Isabella?" I shake my head timidly, not removing my eyes from hers. "It means that you _lied_ to me about packing it in the first. Fucking. Place." She lifts the bag above my head and plonks it down with every one of those last few words. My head sinks into my shoulders with each jarr of the full bag against the crown of my head.

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter. There's no point in denying it, even if I _didn't _lie.

"Don't fucking give me sorry, Isabella. If I didn't have to be somewhere right now, you'd be in a world of shit. Unfortunately I have to go, but when I get back this weekend, I _will _be dealing with your behaviour."

I nod silently, trying not to visibly flinch at her words. Her gaze sweeps my upper body and her nose wrinkles, her eyes narrowing when they land on the ice pack. "Why do you need this?" she asks, snatching it from my hand. It's a moments delay between my hand being pulled from my body as the ice pack is whipped out of my grip and me rushing to re-cover the bruise with the same hand. _Why does the bruise have to be on my _left_ side? Edward could have easily caught a glimpse of it just then._

I don't reply to her question. I don't know what to say. "Why do you need this, Isabella?" she asks again, stepping closer to me. "I didn't push you _that _hard." _Push? Don't you mean punch, because that's what it _really_ was. _Actually, with Edward stood an arms reach away and listening to every word she is saying, I'm glad she said push and not punch. That doesn't sound as bad.

"I-I know," I stammer, the fear that she'll get any further into the room and see Edward pushing me to reply. "I was just being thorough."

"I see. If only you'd shown the same care when packing my bags yesterday. I wouldn't be here right now. Instead I'd be at-" she stops herself from finishing that sentence. She scoffs and looks down at the ice pack. "Whatever. I have to go. I'll be back Saturday. Try not to burn the place down. And remember the rules. If I even suspect for _one second_ that you've stepped a toe out of line, you'll not know what's fucking hit you."

Finally, after returning the ice pack to me, she turns and walks away, leaving my door open. Remembering my lie, I follow her out of my room, closing the door behind me softly. She doesn't look back at me as she heads downstairs. I grab a towel from the linen closet and walk back to my room.

I keep my head down as I enter, closing the door behind me. There's no lying to Edward now. He wouldn't have misinterpreted what he just witnessed with his own two eyes.

I can't look up at him, even when I know he's looking straight at me. I feel ashamed. Heat rises in my cheeks at the same time that tears prick at my eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" he asks me barely above a whisper. It's not a harsh whisper, but it doesn't include much tenderness either. He sounds disgusted, which only furthers my shame.

However, my feelings of shame don't lessen my fear of my mother and I'm quick to hush him (even though he barely whispered) as I rush to my window, throwing the towel to my bed on the way. I peer out in time to see Renee backing out of the driveway and leaving the street.

I sigh, though my shoulders don't sag in relief. I'm too tense, about to face a moment I've been avoiding for years with anyone, and only months with Edward.

The moment of truth.

I slowly turn my back to the window, only to come face to face with Edward, who's moved to stand right in front of me. I startle and step back, quickly averting my eyes from his troubled expression.

"Bella..." he whispers before going silent again. I don't look up from the floor as I sidestep him and go to my closet, pulling out a t-shirt which I rush to put on.

I keep my back to him, even after I've closed my closet. We're both silent for a while.

"H-how..." I hear his gulp. "How long has she been...?"

He can't finish and I can't answer.

"Bella?" His voice is closer than before, and I can't stomach the idea of him getting any closer to me, of him being close enough to coerce the words out of me. I need space for this conversation.

So, I quickly move across the room, standing beside my bed. My hand, off its own accord, lifts to my neck where I stroke the chain of my locket necklace with my index finger. I stop momentarily when I feel only one chain, and then turn to slip the chain with the key back around my neck. Once it's tucked beneath my t-shirt, I go back to stroking the chains as I slowly turn back to him.

"She hurts you." I say nothing. "She hurts you, doesn't she, Bella. Verbally, emotionally..." he gulps before adding in a choked whisper, "physically." Hearing the confusion and utter disbelief in his voice is heart breaking, but still, I don't react. The next thing he says is without those emotions I could so easily detect only moments before. "She abuses you." At his monotonous statement, my eyes instantly jump from their fixated place on my bedroom floor to Edward. The bag he had on his back has been dropped to the floor, though I don't know when that happened. He is staring at me, his comforting green eyes searching my face from across the room. I don't deny or confirm what he just said. I simply stare at him.

When he begins walking toward me, I shake my head pleadingly.

"How long, Bella?" When I remain silent, emotion returns in his voice. This time it's not confusion or disbelief. This time it's anger. "God dammit, Bella! How _long_ has she been like that with you?"

I look down again, tears pooling in my eyes. I gulp back the lump in my throat. "Almost s-six years," I choke out. I hear his gasp, but I don't look up from the floor.

"Why?" he asks, sounding choked up himself. I finally look up at him, unshed tears blurring my vision.

"Because of what I did."

He moves closer with one step. "What do you mean? What did you do?" All the anger has gone. He steps closer again.

"I..." I briefly close my eyes. When I reopen them, he's even closer. "It's my fault my dad's dead."

He steps back.

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**A/N: So, it's out. He finally knows. Thoughts? Let me know in a review! I'm so glad this chapter is out. I've been nervous and excited about it because this is such an important plot point for this story.**

**Anyway, now about the thing I wanted to say. Unfortunately, that time a while back when I had really bad writers block has put me a little behind schedule. When I increased my updates to 3 a week, I had a 10+ chapter log so I was always safe to post so frequently. I have less than that now. I'm still a few chapters ahead, but I don't have as many to fall back on. So, with that said, I am sorry to say that I am returning to 1 update a week, just for now. It'll probably only be for the next couple weeks because I've been in a writing flow I guess you could say the last couple days. As soon as it's possible, I'll increase my number of weekly updates again. I promise. **

**This does mean that instead of bringing you the next chapter on Monday, I'll be back on Friday. Trust me, this wait is going to be as torturous for me as it may be for you because I love updating this story! Okay, that's all I wanted to say. I hope you're all well. See you next week!**


	44. Chapter 44: 'It's despicable' (E POV)

**A/N: As promised, a Friday update for you! This chapter begins a few moments before the end of the last one, so there's a tiny overlap, but not much. It's purpose is to mostly show you Edward's thoughts on last chapter. I promise you won't be reading the same chapter all over again from another POV. There is more! The cliffhanger I left you on last Friday is continued, as is their conversation. Wait! Why am I telling you all this when you can just read and find out for yourselves?! Thank you so much for reviewing, I'm glad you're as happy as me that Edward now knows! I hope you enjoy!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-four: 'It's despicable' (Edward POV)

_Monday 10 July 2017_

I can't believe what I have just witnessed. That woman was unrecognisable. Nothing like the woman I met not too long ago. And Bella... I've never seen her so vulnerable. I thought I'd seen her cower into herself because of the kids at school, but that was _nothing_ compared to what I just saw from behind her bedroom door.

So much was revealed to me in that short encounter between Mom and Daughter. I hadn't seen the _true_ Renee until this evening. She said something about _pushing_ Bella, which must link to the reason she was holding an ice pack up to that terribly large bruise she has on her ribs. Her mom was so _vile _to her. So cold and callous. Nothing like how she was only weeks ago when I met her.

All of what I witnessed tonight made something _very_ clear to me: Bella is abused by her mom. And I've never seen the signs. Or maybe I have, but I've just been too focused on my own problems - which now seem miniscule in comparison - to detect them. I'm the world's worst friend.

"How long, Bella?" I ask her as stoically as I can manage. The emotions surging through me right now are like a tornado.

I wait for an answer. She hasn't spoken a word since her mother left the house. And when she remains silent, I let my anger out. I honestly try not to let it through. _Really,_ I do. Anger isn't what she needs right now. But I just can't help it. I feel so helpless. So unsure. "God dammit, Bella! How _long _has she been like that with you?"

She looks down. There's a long pause before she gives me an answer. And it's not what I was expecting. "Almost s-six years." I gasp loudly. I was expecting her to give me a number of months, not _years_! My God!

All I can think to ask next is, "Why?", though I struggle to even manage that. When she looks up at me, my heart breaks at the sight of her glistening eyes. The tears look on the verge of falling. I just want to hug her, but she's barely holding my gaze so I know I wouldn't get far if I tried.

"Because of what I did."

That is too cryptic an answer for my liking. My need to know and my need to be close to her has me stepping forward slowly. Only once at first. "What do you mean? What did you do?" I ask, stepping a little closer once more.

"I..." she stops and closes her eyes for a few seconds. In those few seconds, I take the chance to step a few more strides closer. Her eyes open and they are no less teary than before. "It's my fault my dad's dead."

Her softly spoken words hit me like a freight train and I step back in shock. "What? How?" I thought I'd be speechless. I'm not. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's the truth." She lowers herself to the edge of her bed, slowly. She's moving like every one of her limbs is tied down with tonnes of weights. I keep my distance, sensing her flighty attitude, but also perch myself on the end of the bed. She's at the top, I'm at the bottom.

"It can't be." She doesn't know what she's saying. It's the only explanation. "What do you mean?"

She doesn't say anything at first. Just stares down at her knee that's bent underneath her.

"How did he die, Bella?" I ask, suddenly realising that she's never told me.

"In duty," is all she says. But all that does is confuse me further. If he died doing his job, then how is it Bella's fault?

"Well then, how..."

She sighs and takes her time in moving to the center of her bed and pulling her knees up to her chest. She wraps her arms around them tightly, resting her chin on her non-injured forearm.

"If I'm going to tell you then I best give some context," she says quietly, closing her eyes. After fifteen seconds I'm afraid she won't tell me after all, but then she opens her eyes and starts speaking, her voice subdued, monotonous. "We never struggled too much for money, our family. My dad was paid well for his job." I sense that this is the beginning of a long story from Bella, so I get more settled on her bed, moving until I'm opposite her in the center of the foot of the bed. I cross my legs, keeping my attention on her. She's not looking at me. Her watery gaze is locked on the bedspread beneath us. "Renee's never earned a large wage. My dad was always the one to bring the most into the household. He only ever wanted the best for me, tried to give me anything and everything I wanted. He had enough to pay for my piano lessons, which he did from when I was four up until he..." she inhales a deep shaky breath and quickly looks at me with a "you know" expression and a one shouldered shrug. I nod, silently telling her to continue. She exhales just as deeply before going on. "When I showed an interest in the guitar, he did all he could to get me into lessons. But learning a musical instrument doesn't come cheap unless you're self-taught." She goes silent, before bitterly whispering to herself, "Maybe if I'd have done that he'd still be alive."

I want to tell her to not be so ridiculous, that that can't be true, but I don't say a word. She shakes her head, as if to clear it, and then continues. "I didn't know that he couldn't afford the lessons on the salary he already had. Not with me continuing on with my piano lessons at the same time. I had noticed that he began working more, but I was only nine when I started with the guitar lessons. I didn't put two and two together, didn't make the connection that he was working more because he wanted to earn more money to pay for my lessons."

"I found out _after_ he died that... that he'd put himself down for extra shifts at Port Angeles Police Department. Not much goes on in this town crime-wise, so the cops here would often sign up for extra work at PA, usually the ones that needed the extra cash. And along with the extra shifts comes more danger. _Much _more danger than what they'd find in Forks. He was now one of those men that put themselves in more danger, all because of me. He was on one of his night shifts in PA, patrolling the streets with his partner. They drove by this alley and saw some commotion. A group of men, if you can even call them that, were... _attacking _a teenaged girl. I don't know all the little details, but I do know that my dad and his partner called for backup but they didn't wait. There were three assailants to begin with, one was armed. My dad and his partner were handling it until a few friends of the men showed up, also armed, further outnumbering them. My dad was shot twice, once in the arm and the final hit was fatal, in his h-head. He died, but not before killing one of the attackers himself. Stuart Davis, my dad's partner, managed to drop one of the men and grab another before the others scattered."

I sit in silent horror, watching as Bella's face streams with tears. With a definitive self-loathing soiling her voice, she whispers darkly, "He was patrolling that street, at that crime scene, working _that night_... all because of me."

"Bella-"

"Don't," she clenches her eyes closed, holding up a hand to me in demand for me to stop. "Don't tell me it wasn't. The whole reason he started working more is because of my s-selfish desire to learn another instrument. I should have been happy with knowing and learning the piano, but _nooo_, I just _had_ to know another one."

"Is that you talking or your mother?" I ask her boldly. She opens her eyes to glare at me. I hold her gaze with an impenetrable one of my own. When she looks away first, it's all the confirmation I need that my question hits home.

"It doesn't matter, because it's _true_. I was selfish and look where it got him. Buried six feet under ground a-at age twenty-nine!" Her tears had burst free of the barrier she'd been holding them behind long ago. They stream down her cheeks and she wipes at them angrily.

"So young?" I ask quietly.

She glances at me with surprise showing on her face, like she had forgotten I was here. "Um, yeah," she says with a sniffle. "I was born the summer after my parents' senior year of high school." I know my eyes widen slightly, but I don't think she notices. She's back to hugging her knees and looking down at the bed.

"You told me once that your father died in 2010. That was _seven_ years ago, not six."

"Yes, well, my mother didn't outwardly blame me at first. She changed with me after he died. I noticed that. But I had my Nana Swan here to mask some of the coldness my mother suddenly had toward me. She was the barrier that stopped my mother from unleashing her blame fully. But then my nana died six months after my dad, and that's when I really noticed something was off with Renee. She didn't begin being... _abusive _toward me until about ten months after his death. It was only verbal at first. Name calling, shouting at me for no reason. Then, a year after his death she hit me for the first time. It's just never stopped since then, and only gotten worse."

I take some time to think over all that she's said. Every little detail. I have so many questions, I don't know where to begin. But there is one question that's eating away at me more aggressively than the others. It's niggling away at my brain. I _need_ to know.

"Who else knows?" I ask her. Her far away look snaps to me, question in her eyes, like my query is absurd. It's _far_ from it.

"I don't..." she seems at a loss for words as she trails off, very confused.

"Please tell me someone else knows," I plead, sitting forward and bracing my hands on my knees.

She shakes her head, eyes wide and glassy. "N-no one knows, Edward, and no one _can_ know." I'm taken aback by her admission. She is quick to scoot forward until her knees are touching mine, and her hands are braced on the tops of mine. "Do you hear me, Edward? You can tell _nobody_. Not your parents or a teacher at school or... or the police. _No. One_."

"But, Bella... _why_? This is so wrong. What she does to you is so wrong!"

Her eyes are as big as saucers as they stare into mine desperately, pleadingly. "I've told you why! No one can know because of what I did, what I _caused_. Edward, I can't have people knowing that the only reason my dad was ever in Port Angeles in the first place is because of me. He was so loved by everyone in town. They all already hate me, I don't need to give them another reason."

"Bella, I don't know..." I say uncomfortably.

"_Please_, Edward." She glances around frantically, like she's physically searching for the right words. "Look, I... I _know_ it's a horrible thing for me to ask of you. It's despicable, I _know_ that. but promise me that you'll keep this to yourself. I've already lived through it for almost six years. I only have another two years of high school left and then I can leave her. And that way, no one will ever have to know."

I want to scream at her, try and persuade her that she has done _nothing _wrong. All she's guilty of is being a kid and asking for something. All she's guilty of is having a loving father that wanted to give her the world.

But as I look at her tear-stained face, into her big beautiful yet bloodshot brown eyes, I can't find it in me to deny her this wish. I think about it for a long time, all the while watching as more and more fear fills Bella's vulnerable gaze. And finally, against my better judgement, I silently nod my head. My eyes drop from hers, not able to hold them. I feel like shit for agreeing to this. This isn't right. Someone else should know. Someone who can help her. But she's so frantic with the worry of _anyone _knowing, that she's forced my hand. I can't tell anyone if she's so adamant that I don't. As unfair as it sounds, it wouldn't be fair to her.

When I drop my eyes, they land on the hem of her t-shirt. I slowly raise my hand and skim the material of the bottom of her top. "Bella," is all I say, asking for permission. She sighs and hides her face behind her hands as she wipes away the remaining moisture. When she drops her hands, they grip the hem of her top and she slowly lifts it up and over her head, dropping it to the bed beside her.

I try not to focus on the fact that she's in only a black bra, or on the fact that the mysterious key I know nothing about is once again in sight, just _begging_ for me to find out what it unlocks.

Trying to do both of those things isn't very difficult with the yellow and brown bruise demanding attention from her ribs. It looks nasty, a painful mass of discoloration. "How?" I whisper, lifting my hand but not making contact. My fingers hover over it. I briefly look up to her when she doesn't answer at first.

She sighs, and bites her lip before finally giving me an explanation. "I fell down the basement stairs."

I stare at her for several seconds. "You _fell_..." I repeat dubiously. She avoids my eyes. "I know about it all now, Bella, so you might as well tell me the truth." She rolls her eyes and huffs.

"Fine. _Fuck,_" she whispers the curse. "She pushed me."

"When?" My anger is barely contained. The hand I have hovering in front of the bruise is shaking. I clench it before bravely putting it on her side, my hand spanning over the bruise. She jumps at the contact but instantly relaxes after briefly looking down.

"The Saturday after we... _you know_." She blushes as she trails off. Her confession has me thinking back to our conversation in the meadow.

"You weren't acting strange because Renee was leaving you for a week, were you?" I ask, but I already know the answer. Even before she squeezes her eyes shut, a regretful look on her face.

"I am so sorry for lying to you, Edward."

I shake my head, giving her the wrong impression, because she instantly hides her face, possibly to shield her new bout of tears. No way am I letting her hide from me anymore. I grasp her chin and force her to look at me. "Do _not_ apologise. You have done _nothing _wrong," I say forcefully, hoping she detects the double meaning behind my words. "I've promised you something. I promised that I'll keep this to myself. Now I need you to promise _me_ something." She nods immediately. "I want you to tell me _everything_ from now on. Any time she does something to you. Tell me. _Please_." Her responding nod this time isn't as immediate, but it does come, _eventually_.

I offer her a smile in thanks, which she reciprocates before leaning forward and hugging me tightly. I return her embrace with a gentler hold, scared to hurt her. When she pulls back, I instantly grab her hands, mindful of the splint my father provided her with.

_The splint..._

I must stare down at it in my hold for a while, because at some point, Bella speaks up. "It wasn't the door at work," she admits quietly. I glance up at her, but she's staring down at her bandaged wrist just as I was only moments before.

I don't ask for her to tell me all the gory details. I know all I need to; Renee did it. She will be responsible for the bruise she had on her back that I saw that time in my bedroom, and probably lots more I've noticed in passing but never asked about. If I think about it hard enough, I'm sure I'll remember a lot of things that may have seemed strange.

Right now though, I want to get back to hugging her. She needs a good hug after that conversation. _I _need a good hug. I crawl around her as she watches me cautiously. I collapse onto my back and open my arms as an invitation. She reaches for her top and quickly slips it on, before she moves to lie beside me, on her _good_ side. I maneuver us so her head lays on my shoulder and stare up at the ceiling, stroking her arm back and forth.

We lay like that for a while, until I remember the whole reason I came here. Wow. That seems like a lifetime ago. "I have some good news," I say as cheerfully as I can manage, squeezing the top of her arm gently. She twists her head up to look at me; she doesn't remove her head from my shoulder so I have to pull my head back slightly. "I spoke to my parents and they agreed to have you round for dinner this week." I can't blame her for the wariness I can see in her eyes. "They _both_ agreed," I tell her, hoping to appease some of the apprehension she must be feeling. There's no need to let her know that my mother fought me all she could on the matter first, and that my dad had to pretty much force her to say yes.

"They did?" she asks, shocked enough to pull her head off of me so she can stare down at me with more vantage. I nod, smiling. "Okay," she says, a slow smile of her own forming on her lips. "That would be great. Thank you. When?"

"How does Wednesday sound?" I ask her.

"Just fine," she whispers, smiling as she lowers her head back to my shoulder. As my hand returns to it's delicate stroking, I find that I'm smiling up at the ceiling now, a large improvement from the thoughtful scowling I was performing earlier.

Bella dozes off on my shoulder not long after that. I probably should leave and let her get some sleep, but I can't. For a while, I just continue to stare up at the ceiling, my hand barely brushing her arm for fear of waking her up. At some point I turn my head slightly so I can look down at Bella. I don't find a peacefully sleeping face. Instead, what I see is an expression of pain. Her forehead is creased with the furrowing of her brows, and even in her sleep, she's biting her lip. I hold my breath as I reach up and gently, with my thumb, release her lip from the snare of her teeth. She sighs and shifts restlessly, snuggling further into my side, before becoming still again. It was a pointless thing for me to do, because two minutes later her teeth are nibbling away at that bottom lip again. I roll my eyes but smirk down at her. Still stubborn, even while sleeping.

While she sleeps, I use this chance of privacy to think about all that's happened today. I look over to my bag that I dropped down by her closet once her mom left. I can't believe I brought condoms with me. I _won't_ be letting Bella know that. Tonight definitely didn't go to plan.

I still can't quite wrap my head around all that's been revealed this evening. It's all... unbelievable to me, yet now, as I think back to times where things have seemed off with Bella, it's all totally believable. I know there is still so much that I don't know about her life with her mom, so much that she's been through, but I'll be here for her from now on.

At almost 8:00PM, I decide it's probably best to leave her for the night. She's in a deep deep sleep. I try to slip out from under her as carefully as possible.

I manage to remove myself from the bed without waking her. I stand slowly but before I even take a step toward my bag, I stop, not wanting to disappear without leaving her a note. After everything I've found out today, after all that she divulged in me about her dad and her life after his death, I don't want her to wake, see I'm gone and think I can't handle all that I now know.

I need to leave her a note.

I tiptoe over to her desk and look on top of it without moving anything. I quickly glance back to Bella when I hear her moving. She's only rolled onto her back. I release a steady breath and look back at the desk. There is a pinboard hung on the wall above it. A couple pictures are tacked to it, but the thing to grab my attention is a very crinkled piece of paper. It's old, that's easy to tell by the state of the paper _and_ the handwriting.

Telling myself that I'm not snooping - it _is_ out on display after all - I lean closer to have a better look. I'm not really sure I'm reading it correctly. I don't think I want to believe that I'm reading it correctly. It's a chart, colour coded and written in scruffy handwriting. It's not the handwriting of a really young child, but it's obviously been written by a child, probably not a teenager yet.

I read over it all for a second time. On the third time, I carefully pull it's pin out and bring it closer to my face, assessing it carefully. This can't be right. It's a chore chart, that much is obvious, but it's got _every_ chore imaginable. From dusting, to cooking, to cleaning _toilets._

"Edward?" Bella's quiet but wary voice is unexpected, and I jump slightly, spinning to look at her. She yawns, all while keeping her wide eyed gaze on the paper I'm still holding with both hands.

She looks extremely tired as she slowly sits up, rubbing at her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I..." I have no answer. All I can do is look back down at the chart. I slowly walk over to Bella, and sit down on the edge of her bed, still looking at what's in my hands.

"Bella, is this yours?" A stupid question, I know. Of _course_ it's hers. Why else would it be pinned up in her room. I glance up at her when she doesn't answer. She's looking down at the paper with wide eyes. "Bella? Do you have to do all of this?"

I get no verbal reply from her. Just a slow cautious nod. I shake my own head, looking down at the chart yet again. The corner is curled into my tight grip.

"Since when?"

"It doesn't matter, Edward." It's the first thing she's said since I sat down beside her, and the way she says it, like it _really_ doesn't matter angers me. The paper audibly crinkles as my tight grip turns into an angry fist.

"It _does _matter, Bella. Since when?" I ask again.

"Please, Edward, I've already told you too much."

"Since. When." I hiss out the words through gritted teeth. I don't mean to sound so harsh toward her, but you have to understand, this is _really_ frustrating; not being told anything when all I want to do is help, even if that's just by being someone she can talk to, is the most frustrating thing imaginable.

She sighs, like _I'm _the frustrating one, and takes the chart from my hands. I have to fight with my own mind to release the paper before it rips between our tug-of-war. "I was eleven when I made this. Happy?" she retorts sassily, clambering off the bed and stomping toward her desk. She stabs the pin and chart back onto the board with so much force that I actually wince. If the pinboard had feelings I'm sure that would have hurt.

She sighs, her shoulders sag, but she keeps her back to me. "Look, Edward. I _know_ you want to be told everything, but it's hard for me to talk about." She slowly turns to face me, but keeps her head lowered. "The... _abuse_... it's been a part of my life for so many years, and for all that time I've had no one to talk to, no one that knew. I had no friends, no other family, no one. You're the only person outside of me and my mother that knows. I'm sorry that I'm a bit reluctant to speak about it, but it's hard for me. I'll _try_, but that's all I can promise."

She glances up at me and I nod. She offers me the smallest of smiles and shuffles closer, lowering herself to sit on the bed beside me. Seeing the dark circles under her eyes - I'm not even going to ask what the three red marks on her face are - reminds me of why I went over to her desk in the first place.

I stand, all the while she follows me with wide eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I should leave. Let you get some sleep."

She quickly glances at the alarm clock behind her. "Are your parents expecting you back?" she asks, her eyes no less wider as she stares up at me.

"They don't know I'm here."

"Oh." She looks down. I sigh quietly before leaning down to press a kiss to her head. That doesn't go entirely to plan though. My lips are a couple inches from the top of her head when she lifts it, raising her face up toward me. Obviously not expecting me to be so close, her eyes widen comically for a fraction of a second before she stretches the last couple inches until our mouths meet.

Her kiss is hard and urgent, so forceful that it pushes my head back an inch - though that may have been due to the shock of her rapid movements. I'm quick to respond to the kiss. Her hands come up to grip my t-shirt before she pulls back. "Don't go," she pleads breathlessly, eyes closed. I pull away slightly, so I can see her face more clearly. "Please," she whispers, opening her eyes. They flicker back and forth between mine. I don't even have to see the pleading look in them to make up my mind. The kiss was enough.

"Okay. I'll stay a while longer," I say, slowly lowering back down to the bed again. Her hands gradually release my shirt, dropping into her lap. "What do you want to do?" I don't expect anything right now. After all she has revealed to me, I don't think she'd be in the mood for anything more than that kiss.

Without removing her gaze from mine, she slowly drags herself back until she's leant up against her headboard. When she pats the space beside her, my brow furrows but I do as she wants. Perhaps she wants us to watch a movie, like last time?

I mirror her position, and sit up against the headboard, my legs stretched out in front of me. It's only when she sits forward that I realise she left me a majority of the bed, having put herself squashed up against one nightstand so I'd be sat practically center on the bed.

She sits forward, moving away from her corner of the bed, and then in a totally unexpected move, she swings one leg over and straddles my thighs. My eyes go wide, bugging out of my head. This reminds me of our position in the meadow two days ago. I was much bolder then, repeatedly placing my hands on her thighs and hips, though I didn't know then what I know now. I wasn't so unsure of what she wants and what she needs.

Is this right? After the evening we've had so far?

My doubts are pushed aside, however, when she leans forward, cups my face with both hands and kisses me. It's softer this time, less urgent yet more passionate. I wrap my arms around her and return the kiss. She pushes her hands into my hair, round to the back of my head and then down to my shoulders, where she pulls my torso toward her, so I'm no longer leaning against her headboard but now sat up straighter.

Our chests are pressed together for only a moment before her hands are pulling the bottom of my t-shirt up and she's briefly pulling away to whip it off over my head. The kisses quickly restart and I plan to do the same for her, but when my hands disappear beneath her shirt, she tenses up and pulls away.

"My top stays on," she tells me, panting lightly. Her hands are on my shoulders, her cheeks are slightly flushed, yet her eyes are firm, unflinching as I try to assess her emotions. I can tell she won't budge on this.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, I nod silently. She doesn't move for several seconds, probably not expecting me to have agreed so easily. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter because it's not long before we're back to being lip locked. I shift us down the bed without breaking our embrace, until I have enough room to fall onto my back, taking Bella with me.

By the end of the night, it turns out that bringing the condoms was a good decision after all.

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**A/N: Let me know your thoughts on this chapter in a review! Was Bella's 'confession' what you were expecting? Do you hate me for having the abuse stay a secret even if Edward _does_ know? It's necessary for the way I plan for this story to unfold.**

**I'll be back in another week, on Friday, with the next chapter. Though I'm undecided with this because the next chapter is the lemon that follows on from this chapter so I may just post it earlier in the week and then post Chapter 46 on Friday instead. Like I said, I'm still undecided! We'll see. I apologise for this unplanned posting schedule I've got going on at the moment. I promise it shouldn't be too long until I'm back to multiple uploads a week!**

**Thanks for reading and I'll definitely see you next week! Have a good weekend! **


	45. Chapter 45: 'your promise' (Bella POV)

**A/N: I didn't post twice this week as I said I may do, but I'll definitely post twice next week. Probably Monday/Tuesday and then the Friday as usual. Hope that makes up for it! And this chapter is a bit late, I know. Technically it's not Friday anymore. To be fair, I _have_ been trying to edit this one for the last half hour but I keep getting error after error; fingers crossed this works! Sorry if you were waiting for this all day.**

**I realised recently that I always thank you for the reviews but never the favourites and follows. So, thank you for all the reviews, favs and follows! It really does mean a lot. I smile like a crazy lady whenever I get an email notification for them!**

**There's a little bit of an overlap with the end of the last chapter and the start of this one. It's just a switch in POV. It begins from the moment Bella came to sit back down beside Edward on the bed after pinning up the chart. There is a lemon in this chapter. Actually, this chapter is basically just one big lemon lol. Sorry if that's not your thing.**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-Five: 'your promise' (Bella POV)

_Monday 10 July 2017_

I can't believe how this evening has turned out. He _knows_! He knows everything, and I feel so conflicted about it all.

Should I be happy? Happy that someone knows and it's not a secret I have to carry on my own two shoulders anymore.

Should I be angry? Angry that he has forced me to tell him about my mother's treatment of me and the things she makes me do around the house.

Should I be ashamed? Should I be relieved?

Should I be guilty? Guilty because I've asked him to keep my secret, knowing how much of a burden it is.

What should I be feeling right now?

I honestly don't know, but my emotions are a swirling mixture of all those right now. I feel like there's a tornado going on inside me.

I can't help but replay tonight's events over and over in my mind. It's not at all how I expected Edward to find out. Well, I didn't expect him to find out _at all_, but not for one minute did I want him to witness Renee's ways with me. That's the thing I regret most about tonight. I wish I could rewind the time and not have opened my window.

However, despite that wish, there's a small part of me that knows that all that has happened tonight has been good. Good for me. Good for my friendship with Edward. I don't have to lie now. I hated lying to him on Saturday. It was horrific, knowing that the words I was saying to him, my best friend, the one person I trust and care about more than anyone, was all a pack of lies. Now, I don't need to avoid us getting _close _when I have a new bruise. I don't have to push him away like I did last week. I can be honest.

Though how honest I decide to be is yet to be seen. I'm positive I won't be telling him _all_ the gory details... if I can get away with it.

I don't know how long I've been lost in my own thoughts for. I'm pulled out of them when Edward stands from his spot beside me on the bed. "What are you doing?" I ask, panicked as I stare at him with wide eyes.

"I should leave. Let you get some sleep," he says. I glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand, doing so rapidly so I can return my attention to him.

"Are your parents expecting you back?" I ask.

"They don't know I'm here."

"Oh." My response is quiet, disheartened. I was hoping the news of them having me over for dinner this week meant that they were warming up to me. That's obviously not the case if he's had to sneak out to come see me. It doesn't matter to me, doesn't change how much time I'll spend with Edward, but it would make our lives easier if they'd at least _try_ to like me. Rushed opinions are often untrustworthy opinions.

I lower my gaze to the floor by my feet, attempting to shield my disappointment. I hear his heavy sigh and look up to him, my eyes widening when I see his face is much closer than before. He's bent at the waist, lowered toward me, and even though I don't know the reason why, I take the opportunity to convince him to stay longer. I quickly lift my face, pressing my mouth to his with a rough urgency.

I put as much force as I can into the kiss. My heart feels heavy in my chest when he pulls back a bit, but instantly lightens when he responds to the kiss with some urgency of his own. I want to say something, but don't want him to use that as his chance to escape, so I grip his shirt tightly in my hands, ignoring the ache in my wrist, before I pull away and close my eyes.

"Don't go," I beg breathlessly. My heart is beating in double time, and I can feel my body is heated from that kiss. I sense him pull back, so I tighten my right hand around the material of his shirt. "Please," I whisper, opening my eyes to stare up at him, wanting to show him how much I want him to stay.

He agrees quicker than I was expecting him to. "Okay," he says as he slowly begins lowering himself to sit beside me once more. "I'll stay a while longer."

I wait until he's fully seated before I release his shirt, placing my hands in my lap. Unbeknown to Edward, my right hand is currently cradling my left wrist. This fracture, although healing, sure is a pain.

"What do you want to do?" he asks. My eyes haven't strayed from Edward's, and when he asks that question, only one thing comes to mind.

I slowly drag myself back until I'm leant up against my headboard, but I make sure to leave Edward a majority of the space at the top of my bed. Then I pat the large space beside me. He looks confused as he moves to lean back against the headboard like I am.

Once he's still again, I move forward, away from the headboard as I turn to face him. His look of confusion changes to one of alarm as I straddle him. His shocked expression is comical, but I'm not in the laughing mood right now. I wait a moment, hoping he'll put his hands on my hips or legs, just like he did in the meadow on Saturday, but he doesn't. Looks like I'll have to take matters into my own hands.

I reach out and place both my hands on either side of his face as I lean forward to kiss him. This kiss is less urgent than before, it's a more delicate and more passion-filled kiss. I try to convey to him with this one kiss what it is I want to do right now. I have to hold back my smile when I feel his arms wrap around me as he kisses me back.

As the kiss deepens, I thread my fingers into his hair, pushing them through until they meet at the back of his head. As our tongues meet and swirl around one another, I move my hands down to his shoulders, which I use to pull him away from the headboard until we're chest to chest. I trail my hands down his back in one quick sweep, quickly gripping the hem of his shirt so I can get it off of him. Our mouths and chests part only long enough for me to rid him of his shirt. I place my hands on his back, focusing for now on the kisses.

I tense when I feel his hands delve beneath my shirt and start to guide it up. I'm instantly reminded of the bruising on my ribs and pull away, panting as I place my hands on his shoulders and shake my head lightly. "My top stays on," I tell him. I fully expect to fight him on this, which is why I'm left in frozen shock for several seconds when he simply nods his head.

I bring our mouths back together and resume our kisses. Edward has one arm around my back as he uses the other to help him shift down the bed. I help, moving back on my knees and following him without breaking the connection of our mouths. He slowly lays back on the bed, his arm around my back bringing me with him.

We just make out for a little while, our hands roaming all that we can reach of the other's body. When his hands move down to my ass, I can't stop the smirk that appears on my lips and I grind myself down on the hardening bulge in his jeans that's beneath me. He groans into my mouth and squeezes, eliciting another grind of my pelvis from me.

I pull away from his lips and sit up, panting heavily. I place my hand on his bare chest as I climb off of him, silently telling him to stay. I make quick work of removing my black leggings before I straddle his hips once more. His breathing is heavier than before as his eyes sweep over me sitting astride him in just my t-shirt and panties. I blush.

He reaches out and trails his hands down my arms until he can hold both of my hands. "You really are beautiful, Bella," he says quietly. I blush a darker shade of red and refrain from rolling my eyes at him. I don't quite believe it, but know he doesn't like it when I put myself down, so I just lower myself back down, keeping myself propped up with my right hand beside his head while my left, the one with the splint, caresses the side of his face.

I press my mouth to his, and sweep my tongue across his bottom lip, asking for entrance, which he grants. He groans when I allow all of my body weight to rest along the length of his body. His hands return to my backside, which he massages while we continue to kiss.

I sit back up after a while, earning a pout from Edward as our mouths part. I can't stop my giggle as I shake my head at him. I let my eyes roam his body, following the trail of my gaze with my hands. I can feel the quick beating of his heart as I pass over his chest. When my hands reach the waistband of his jeans, I pause and look into his dark green eyes. "Do you have any condoms?" I ask quietly, _really_ hoping he answers with a yes, because I don't have any.

He just stares at me for a moment, eyes wide. Then a slow blush creeps into his cheeks and he nods shyly. I breathe a sigh of relief and climb off of him, letting him up to retrieve them. I'm expecting him to reach into his pocket for his wallet and maybe get one out of there. Don't all guys have a spare in their wallets? What I don't expect, however, is for Edward to get up off of my bed and go to his bag which he dropped on the other side of my room. He unzips it, pulling out a handful of little square foil packets. My eyebrows rise.

He smiles at me sheepishly as he comes back over, depositing the packets onto my nightstand. "Were you expecting something to happen tonight, Edward?" I ask, teasingly.

"I hadn't ruled the possibility out," he says as he toes off his shoes. He bends to quickly pull off his socks before getting back onto the bed, resuming his position of being led down. I don't move for a moment, not knowing what he wants me to do, until he grasps my hand in his and pulls it towards his chest. I move in closer, going to lie down on the bed beside him, but when my chest meets his side, he promptly reaches down for my thigh and guides me back to _my_ previous position, too, so I'm straddling him again.

I look at him questioningly, one eyebrow raised. He shrugs one shoulder. "I liked it this way," he says, lowering his eyes briefly. "The views great," he says seriously, before looking up at me with a mischievous grin. I look down at myself to see that the collar of my t-shirt is gaping down, giving him a full on view of my average sized cleavage. I go beetroot red and bury my face into his chest, giggling.

When I raise my head, I watch as the humour vanishes from his expression, and a deep-lust fills his darkening eyes. He grasps the back of my head and pulls my mouth down to meet his. As our tongues once again meet, a new urgency takes over me. I lift my hips away from his and lower my right hand between our bodies. I'm lent on my left elbow, not hand, so my wrist isn't in any unnecessary pain.

I fumble for the fastenings of his jeans, but it's an incredibly difficult task to accomplish when you're in the middle of a dizzying kiss and using only one hand. I wrench my mouth from Edward's, panting as I sit up. He doesn't pout this time, but rather pushes himself up onto his elbows, like there's an invisible string connecting us together meaning that when I move, he moves.

I use both hands, as best as I can with the bummed wrist, to unbutton his jeans. I scoot back a fraction, and then raise my eyes to Edward's as I slowly lower the zipper, my hand brushing his hard length the entire time. He groans and drops back down onto the bed and I smirk, very much enjoying that I can give him pleasure with such a simple act.

I move myself to kneel between his legs instead of straddling his hips and then I start tugging at his jeans. He helps me, lifting his hips so I can remove them. Once they're off, I chuck them to the floor, and then I eagerly move my hands to the waistband of his grey boxers. His hands grab mine, stopping me. I look up at him, trying not to show the rejection I'm feeling. "Are you sure?" he whispers.

Confusion sweeps through me as I stare at him incredulously. "Seriously? You ask me that _now_?" I ask, gesturing to both of our various states of undress.

"I just thought, after the evening we've had, maybe..." he trails off as I quickly climb back up his body, until I'm once again straddling him. I lower my face to his so I can look directly in his eyes.

"I am _absolutely_ sure I want this, Edward... I want you," I say the last part tentatively. He blinks at me and then, without another word, he raises his mouth to meet mine. He rolls us over quickly, and carefully, seeing as my bed is much smaller than his. It's old, too, and creaks as he switches our positions, so he's on top. The noise causes us both to freeze. And then burst out laughing.

Still chuckling, I lift my legs and wrap them around Edward's waist, catching him off guard as I anchor his body down to mine. All seriousness returns as our mouths once again meet and our arms wrap around one another. His mouth leaves mine, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses across my jaw and down my neck. He pulls back and I have to reluctantly release the grip of my legs from around him. I let them fall to the bed as Edward looks down at me, his hands gently running down my sides, settling on my hips. My heart rate picks up and the pit of my belly tightens as his hands gently grasp the elastic waistband of my panties. He keeps his eyes on mine as he slowly starts to lower them. There's no hesitation from me as I lift my hips to allow him to remove them easily.

Once they're off and dropped to the floor, Edward finally let's his eyes separate from mine. Every nerve feels like it's on fire in the wake of his heated, desire-filled gaze as he trails his eyes down my body. I may still have my t-shirt on, but that doesn't hide the fact that my chest is rising and falling with heavy breath, which is where his gaze lingers for a moment or two before moving further down.

He stops his wandering gaze at my now bare center. I blush deeply, realising that this is the first time he's seen all of me bare. We kept our eyes above waistline during our first time. I guess he's feeling a little more confident this time. I have the urge to close my legs or cover myself in some way, but Edward's hands, which are now on my knees, won't allow that. He slowly moves his hands down the inside of my thighs, and my breaths start coming out in short, quick installments. When his thumbs brush against the edges of my now aching center, I gasp sharply, closing my eyes.

I feel movement and when I open my eyes again, I see Edward's face close to mine. He's lowered himself back over me. He places his mouth to mine and kisses me softly, without the urgency from earlier. It's like he's trying to calm me down. I know I'm feeling a mixture of both nerves and excitement right now, and without knowing it, his tender kisses are exactly what I needed.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and keep him close to me. I get lost in the kisses but not lost enough to be totally unaware of his hand slithering down between our bodies; I allow him to, keeping my eyes closed and myself focused on our tangled tongues.

When his fingers brush against my tender flesh, I gasp into his mouth. He strokes me several times, and I jump when he comes into contact with my clit. My mouth starts becoming more insistent on his as he continues his torturous movements. When one of his fingers moves down my slick flesh and probes at my entrance, I freeze beneath him. I open my eyes to meet his, and he seems to search them for something, before he presses a single finger into me slowly. I gasp and arch my back slightly. I have to refrain from reacting with abandon like I want to for fear of twinging my ribs.

Edward keeps his eyes on mine as he slowly retracts his finger before pushing it back into me slowly. I whimper quietly and pull his mouth back down to mine so I can try and hide my sounds of pleasure. Edward doesn't relent in his ministrations and soon the pressure from deep in the pit of my belly starts to build. He adds a second finger and I moan loudly into his mouth, not feeling the least bit embarrassed. I tighten my arms around him as the pleasure I'm feeling builds and builds. I don't know what's happening exactly, but I know I don't want it to stop. Ever.

Edward pulls his mouth from mine, and I pant audibly as he trails his mouth down to my neck, all the while keeping the steady rhythm of his fingers plunging in and out of me. His kisses on the column of my neck turn to sucking and all the wonderful sensations happening all at once cause that tightly wound ball of pressure from within me to burst. Warmth spreads through me as every muscle I'm aware of tenses. I cry out, clenching my eyes shut and grip Edward's hair tightly as my toes curl and a pleasure unlike anything I've ever known takes over my body. My back arches further than I intended but if it caused any pain, I don't feel it.

My breaths are coming out in quick pants as I collapse to the bed, feeling weightless. My hands drop from Edward's hair and I slowly open my eyes. "What was that?" I ask. Edward's eyes, which were showing much pride only a second ago, look confused now.

"You've never..." He goes silent, looking at me with shock clear on his face. "But you were so casual when we spoke about it last time."

_Oh._ My eyes widen and my mouth, which was already open to expel my heavy breathing, opens further. "_That _was an... orgasm?" I ask, dumbfounded. I thought I felt pleasure last time, but that was unlike anything I've ever experienced.

"Was that your first one?"

I don't even have it in me to feel embarrassed as I nod, still shocked. No wonder sex is so hyped, if you can feel _that_ during it. Is it possible for a woman to experience that during intercourse? Only one way to find out.

I run my hands down Edward's sides, and his astonishment seems to be forgotten. I snap the waistband of his boxers against his hip, causing him to jump slightly. With a smirk, I say, "take them off."

He quickly rids himself of the last piece of his clothing, and while he does so, I snatch a condom from the nightstand. I sit up, my legs still on either side of Edward as I look up at him. "Can I?" I ask, holding up the foil packet as way of explanation.

Sat back on his knees with his hands on his thighs, all he can do is nod. I sweep my eyes down to his hard length and take in the sight of him. It's the first time I've seen all of Edward. He's quite big, and I know if I'd have seen him beforehand the first time, there's a strong possibility I may not have gone through with it.

I take a deep breath as I rip into the foil packet. Remembering what to do from health class, after aimlessly discarding the packet to the floor, I reach out with shaking hands to start rolling the rubber down Edward's member. He sucks in a deep breath but I don't glance up at him, concentrating solely on my task.

Once it's rolled all the way down, I finally look up at him. His heavy lidded eyes are staring at me. I slowly lower myself down to my back, and Edward eagerly follows. I press my mouth to his, sucking his tongue into my mouth as he reaches down between us, placing himself at my entrance. I open my legs further, gripping my arms around him tighter as he presses forward, entering me.

Our lips freeze against one another's as we get accustomed to that feeling again. It's uncomfortable for me at first, but I'm sure it'll be that way for the first few times. Edward's breathing is already heavy, so I know it's as pleasurable for him this time as it was last time. He slides in easily, and I can only put that down to the indescribable pleasure I just experienced by his hand. Once he's fully seated inside me, the fronts of our bodies aligned so perfectly, he waits a second, and then pulls back his hips, not once breaking eye contact with me. I let out a shaky breath when he presses back in, at the pleasure it brings me. I didn't expect it to feel that good so soon. I can feel it in every nerve, every muscle.

I rewrap my legs around his waist, which only seems to make him sink deeper. I know he feels it, too, if his low groan is anything to go by. His thrusts are slow at first, measured, gentle. I close my eyes and lay my head back, soaking up all the feelings. The quiet creaking of my bed isn't so humorous now. When I feel Edward's lips at my neck again, I moan not-so-quietly, and the pace of his thrusting picks up a bit. I can feel that tight knot of pleasure in the pit of my stomach slowly reappear and I tighten my arms around him. I want more, but I don't feel brave enough to just ask for it, so I try showing him instead.

I lock my ankles at his back and start meeting his thrusts, attempting to set a new pace. That doesn't last long though, because Edward places one more kiss behind my ear - sending a shiver through me - before his hand trails down my side, down to my hip which he grips tightly, preventing me from moving. I groan in frustration and he pulls his head away from my neck, holding himself up with a hand beside my head as he stares down at me, still thrusting at a steady, gentle pace.

He stares at me for a minute before catching on to my frustration. The next time he pulls his hips back, he holds them there for an agonisingly prolonged second, so he's almost completely out of me, before he suddenly slams back into me. I cry out, gripping at his forearms tightly. "Okay?" he pants out. I nod.

"Again," I reply, just as breathlessly. He smirks with a smug look that I don't have the power to find irksome at this moment in time, and repeats the action, drawing out another loud cry from me. He does it again and again and I look down between us when he pulls back another time, watching as he moves in and out of me. Edward looks down too, and the moan that leaves his throat is such a turn on. I can't help it, I have no control over myself, and I grab at his neck and pull his mouth - and body - back down to mine.

Our tongues duel together in a passionate battle as we simultaneously moan into each other's mouths with each thrust of Edward's hips. I've given up trying to contribute with my own thrusts, and am just losing myself in the pleasure. That ball is tightening more and more and it's so close to exploding, but something holds it back. I don't know what. Edward's muscles have started to shake so I know he's close. I wrench my mouth away, panting manically into the extremely small gap between us; our sweaty foreheads are pressed together. I close my eyes, and a flush of heat adds to my already rosy cheeks as I stutter, "I-I need..."

I don't know what I need, so I can't finish that sentence, but Edward, who's just as inexperienced as me, somehow seems to know. He pulls back to look at my face before releasing my hip to reach down between us. When he starts circling my sensitive bundle of nerves, his thrusts becoming quicker at that exact moment, my breath catches and I'm done for. I throw my head back and tense all over, crying out my pleasure as that tightly wound ball finally explodes, the heat spreading to every nerve ending in my body. I feel Edward bury his head in my neck, but I don't hear anything he's saying because my ears are ringing.

When I finally settle down from my high, my hearing returning to normal, I feel the welcome weight of Edward on top of me and can hear our equally heavy breathing. He raises his head, pecks my lips once, and then pulls himself off of me. When he slips out of me, I sigh at the emptiness, but revel on the next breath as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his chest.

I can feel a slight twinge in my ribs and know I'll feel the consequences soon, but right now I can't find it in me to care. "Well," I begin when my breathing has regained some form of normality, "you kept your promise," I say, looking up at him. He looks confused for a second before realisation dawns on him and he laughs breathlessly.

"I did," he agrees. "Twice," he adds, with a waggle of his eyebrows, causing me to blush and laugh.

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**A/N: I hope this was okay. I'm still a bit apprehensive about writing lemons. It's not as easy as reading them, let me tell ya! Anyway, let me know how you liked it in a review!**


	46. Chapter 46: 'help' (Bella POV)

**A/N: As promised, here is the first of the two chapters for this week. Thank you for reviewing, favouriting and following!**

**I see warnings for these at the tops of chapters all the time so I guess I should put them whenever it is necessary: t****here is a mini lemon in this one.**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-six: "help" (Bella POV)

_Wednesday 12 July 2017_

"Great," I mutter grumpily, when I see Rosalie and Lauren's cars in the Cullen's driveway as I drive up toward the house.

I sigh as I shut off my truck and climb out, locking it and dropping my keys into the pocket of my jacket. I check the time on my phone as I walk towards the front door: 4:45PM. Angela let me leave work early when I told her I had plans. She's good like that.

I spent a majority of today doing my chores. It's nice not having a watchful eye on me, putting pressure on me to do my chores in time. I wouldn't mind it if Renee made this trip away a regular thing.

I'm also glad I can do the chores at my own pace because the bruise on my ribs has been causing me quite the bother. Probably because Renee reconnected with it Monday... and then because of what happened _after _that. Luckily it's not changed in colour, not worsened. It's just a little more tender than before.

Today I had to work on the floors. Vacuuming and sweeping. We have one of those older vacuums that means I have to hunch over to use it. My left side is throbbing now, and my left wrist, which usually only throbs weakly a few times a day, is now pulsing with a constant throb. How convenient that this happens the day I'm at a doctor's place for dinner.

Edward convinced me to skip my chores yesterday, which meant I had more work to do today. Why I let him do that, I'll never know. It probably didn't help that he used seductive tactics to do so.

Yesterday, we spent the entire day, from about 9AM until I had to get to work, at my place being really lazy. We watched movies, had sex, had a nap, I got my keyboard out of the basement so we could mess around on that, watched another movie, had sex again.

As I said after our first time, _"practice makes perfect"_, and I wasn't wrong! The more we do it, the better it seems to get.

It's too bad we couldn't spend today in exactly the same way. That was probably the only day we'll get to be so... unproductive this week. I need to keep up with my chores if I want to avoid my mother's wrath when she returns home Saturday.

I knock on the door and await an answer, holding my breath in preparation for whichever Cullen is the one to answer the door. _Please be Edward. PLEASE be Edward!_

"Hey, Bella. Come in." _Yes! _Edward opens the door, waving me in with a large smile on his face. As he swings the door shut, he pulls me into a hug. "How are you?"

"I'm good. You?" I answer after we break apart. I'm glad no one is in the foyer to witness the way our hug lingered longer than necessary.

He pulls a face. "Alice has some _friends_ over. I didn't know they were coming by today, otherwise I'd have tried to negotiate a different day with my mother." _With _just_ his mother? What about Mr Cullen?_

Before I can dwell too long on his choice of wording, the friends in question round the corner. Alice, Lauren, Jessica and Rosalie are all giggling about something, though their moods soon somber when they see me and Edward stood side by side.

"I forgot she would be here today," Alice says, crossing her arms over her chest. The other three are quick to mirror her stance.

The smile immediately left my face when they came into view, but I give her a forced smile and say, "It's nice to see you, too, Alice." I can see Edward silently shaking with his barely concealed laughter out the corner of my eye, but don't turn my gaze away from his sister, who narrows her eyes at me.

"Edward, maybe it would be best if you and _Bookworm_ ate your dinner down in your room tonight," Alice suggests, not removing her gaze from me. Edward's amusement quickly vanishes at his sister's words.

He barks out a sardonic laugh. "I don't think so, sis. _Bella_ and I will be eating with all of you."

"Ugh. I have to sit across the table from _that_ tonight," Jessica says, a look of disgust reaching her face as she looks me up and down. I want to lower my gaze, but I don't. I don't allow any of my emotions to show on my face - well, maybe a little hatred slips through.

"Yeah. I'll be sure to lose my appetite, and it's not time for me to diet yet," Lauren complains, turning to Alice, obviously looking at her for answers. When her two other friends copy Lauren, Alice looks a little flustered - I take great pleasure in that - and let's her mouth drop open in her speechless moment.

"What do you want me to do about it? It's _his _fault. Mom didn't even _want_ her here but Edward wouldn't let up," Alice says, pointing at her brother accusingly.

I turn my curious gaze to him. He told me that both of his parents agreed. Alice doesn't seem to have the same recollection. He avoids my gaze, but by his tense stance I can tell he knows he's just been dropped in it. "Mom agreed, Alice. You weren't here for that conversation, but she _did _agree. It's not my fault your _friends_ have a problem with it."

"We don't have a problem with your mother agreeing, Edward," Rosalie says calmly, speaking for the first time since they walked into the foyer. She flicks her perfect blonde hair over one shoulder as she looks down at me with a hateful glare and then to Edward with a softer look in her eyes. The sudden change, from cold to tender, is startling and takes both me and Edward off guard. I sense him tense up at the same time I do. "We just have a problem with... well," the rancour reaches her voice as she turns her gaze back onto me, "..._you_."

I don't say anything to that. I glance around at everyone. All four of the girls are glowering at me. When I look to Edward, I see he's extremely angry, but he too doesn't say a thing in response. When I glance back at the girls, I'm surprised to see Bev stood behind them. She appeared out of nowhere.

She has a feather duster in one hand and a frown on her face. She clears her throat. Edward and I are already facing her, but the four girls spin to face her in fright. "I sure do hope you're all being nice to one another," she says sternly, a grave look on her face as she walks around the line of Bitches and stands in the entrance of the family room that comes off of the foyer.

Alice giggles sweetly. "Of course," she says pleasantly. Bev looks to me and Edward for an answer. We both nod hesitantly, and after sending Alice's three guests a suspicious glance, she turns to head into the family room.

Before she is completely out of the room, however, Rosalie whispers loudly to Alice: "You let the staff talk to you like that, Alice?" The judgement is clear in her voice. I can't help but feel sorry for anyone that works for the Hale's, having someone like Rosalie to obey. I glance toward the family room, just in time to see Bev disappear into the room.

"No, of course not," Alice rushes to say. A light blush reaches her cheeks. "She's our only housekeeper. Has been for as long as I've been alive. I like to let her _think _she has control. She'll do more for me that way, but we both know she's just the hired help." As she says this, she sends a cautious glance over her shoulder, toward where Bev has only just left the room.

I very nearly gasp at her words, but manage to conceal my true emotions. Edward, who cares for Bev very deeply, isn't as successful at hiding what he thought of Alice's harsh words. "_Alice!_" he exclaims, appalled. His frown is severe, the dip between his brows the deepest I've ever seen it go. "How can you say that?"

"Oh, Edward. Stop being so dramatic and leave us alone, will you? You and your company have caused enough troubles for one afternoon, don't you think?" she replies with a roll of her eyes. He stands still and stares at her for several seconds before he shakes his head in despair.

"I don't know who you are sometimes," he mutters quietly, before looking to me and gesturing behind us. He grabs my hand as he turns and I don't miss how all four girls' attention shoots to the clasp of our hands before I turn my back to them also.

He quickly leads me down the hall, past the dining room, kitchen and laundry room, before sweeping us into the garage, where he practically drags me down the stairs. We make it to his room less than thirty seconds later, where he slams the door shut, locking it quickly. He paces the length of his room while I meekly make my way to his bed and perch on the edge. "Edward?" I ask tentatively. He stops his pacing and turns to me. "Are you okay?" The only reply I get is a grunt and a nod before he resumes his pacing. _Well that was very clearly a lie. He is _far _from okay_. I let him walk back and forth for a few minutes. I remove my jacket, tossing it to the chair that's not far off to the side of the bed and then drag myself further back, sitting cross legged closer to his pillows while I watch him carefully.

"Edward?" I try again. He hums but doesn't stop pacing like he did earlier. "Come and sit down," I say, patting the bed beside me. He stops and looks at me for many moments, before sighing and doing as I asked. He stretches out on the bed beside me, leaning back against his headboard. We're both silent for a little while before I find the courage to question him. "Your mother didn't agree easily, did she?" I ask, looking down at my hands. His hand joins my view as he picks up my right hand and laces our fingers together. I look up at him.

"She took some convincing," he eventually says, "but she agreed in the end."

I nod silently, looking back down at our hands. I sigh and slide myself down until I'm led on my side. I pull at his hand and he copies me, laying down beside me. I quickly move my head to his shoulder and lay my hand on his chest. "Why do you let Alice get to you so easily?" I ask after a comfortable silence. I feel him shrug beneath my head.

"I don't know." He seems to think about it a while before answering properly. "I just wonder how we turned out so differently... I mean, we couldn't be more different if we tried." I chuckle at that. It's true. He sighs heavily and without removing myself from his side, I turn my head up to look at his face. He's staring up at the ceiling. "I lied. I _do_ know how." I wait for him to continue for a good two whole minutes. "We've always been treated differently. By our parents, I mean. She's been spoilt since day one, not wanting for anything, receiving gifts and praise just by _breathing_. I, on the other hand, have had to work harder for our parents' attention, but try not get in the way of Alice." He goes silent, lost in his thoughts. "I guess the difference in the way they have treated us growing up has _benefited _me." My brow furrows, and though he doesn't see my confusion, he clears it up with what he says next anyway. "It helped me not turn out to be such a spoilt brat, like her."

I laugh, earning a smile from Edward, who glances down at me. His smile disappears the longer he stares at me, confusing me once more. When his hand comes up to my face and he brushes his thumb across my cheek, where my freckles are hidden beneath the makeup I had to put on today to hide the small penny sized bruise on my face, understanding dawns on me. "I'm sorry for complaining," he says. I shake my head but he doesn't let me protest. "You have your own troubles, and they're much more severe than mine."

Still, I shake my head. "No, Edward," I say, pushing up onto my elbow so I can look down at him instead of up. "Your troubles are just as important as mine. I want, _no_, I _need_ you to open up to me. I can't tell you about what happens to me with Renee if you're going to start holding things back. You can't. Not because of me, not because of what you now know. You still need to be able to talk to me, even if you think your problems are inferior to mine, which they're _not._"

I look at him, waiting for _something._ His agreement, his assurance, something, _anything_. I'm left waiting for a while before he slowly nods.

His face is all wrong. His whole aura is wrong. The altercation with his sister in the foyer earlier has really gotten to him. He's stressed, I can feel it radiating off him in waves.

I want to help. I try to think of some way that I can, and the only thing I can think of is our newfound connection. I know we can't go all the way right now - I am here for a dinner with his family after all - but I want to help him relax in someway.

I reach up to kiss his cheek tentatively. He looks at me and I smile with what I hope is reassurance, before I press another kiss, closer to his jaw line. I trail small kisses across his jaw and down to his neck, which he gives me access to by turning his head away. I contemplate giving him a hickey, just like he did to me Monday - what fun that was to try and hide with yet more makeup - but decide against it. It wouldn't be as easy for him to hide. I thought I'd be angry at him for marking me like that, especially with what I have to live with from Renee, but I actually liked it. Edward did apologise when he saw it Tuesday morning, but I told him there's no need. I have a couple more now, but closer to my chest instead of on my neck.

When my hands start to tug at the hem of his t-shirt, he grips my hands and pulls his neck away from me. "Bella?"

"Yes?" I reply innocently. I add a bat of my eyelashes for good measure. He narrows his eyes at me - eyes which are showing the affect I've already had on him.

"What are you doing?" he asks hesitantly.

I look down, and after thinking about my next move for several beats of a minute, with a mix of real and fake confidence I reach out and stroke the tip of my index finger down the zipper of his jeans. He sucks in a deep breath of air. I look back up to him and say, "I was just going to help you release some stress." I hold my breath and wait for him to say something. He just stares at me for a while, his eyes jumping between my eyes and lips, before he slowly nods, inhaling another deep breath which he gradually releases as he let's go of my hand.

I make quick work of removing his shirt, before I begin on his jeans and boxers. I only pull them down his thighs enough to release him. All of this I do without moving very far from his side; he helped a bit. My hand hovers in the air for a second due to my nerves, before I take the plunge and reach out to wrap my hand around him.

"Shit," he curses quietly, and I quickly tear my eyes away from my hand wrapped around his cock to see what the problem is. I'm scared I've already done something wrong. His head is buried far into the pillow and his eyes are clenched tightly shut. When I don't move, he raises his head to look at me. At least I'm assuming that's the reason, especially when he nods silently, and kind of desperately, telling me to continue.

I look down at him in my hand. It doesn't at all feel like what I expected. He's a heavy weight in my hand, warm and hard yet there's a silky softness to him. Out of curiosity, I pull my hand up and he groans, much louder than before. "Ssshh!" I hiss, glancing quickly at the door across the room. When he looks at me, I drag my hand back down and a pained look crosses his face. "You have to tell me if I do something wrong. I-I've never..." I trail off when he nods.

"S'fine," he says, barely audible. "Just don't stop." I take that as an affirmative I've done alright so far, and concentrate on the task that's literally at hand. At first my actions are slow, hesitant. Once I've gotten a hang of the whole up and down motion, I pick up speed. He seems to like it when I twist my hand on the down motion. The first time was an accident but I throw that action in every now and then.

Edward's hand gripping at the sheet beside him catches my eye and I smirk, looking up at his face without stopping the movement of my hand. His breaths are coming in quick, his eyes are closed and he let's out a barely controlled quiet moan every few seconds.

Without stopping, I lean down and press my lips to the bare skin of his shoulder, slowly trailing open-mouthed kisses up to his neck. "Ah, fuck. Bella," he breathes out. I smile into his neck, moving up to behind his ear. I kiss him once there before, out of instinct, moving my mouth to the lobe of his ear. I wrap my lips around it and scrape my teeth down it lightly. This causes a shudder to run it's course through Edward and he groans dangerously loud, his breathing now laboured. "Shit, Bell... aaah... I'm gonna..."

When I soothe the sting of my teeth by sucking on his ear, he sharply inhales one final time before shuddering more violently than before. I move my head away from his and look down just in time to see him release all over his stomach and chest.

He sinks into the bed, relaxing instantaneously. It's several minutes before his breathing returns to normal and he finally opens his eyes. "Wow..." he breathes. I smile triumphantly. He turns his gaze to mine. "Your hand feels so much better than mine," he admits around a breathless chuckle. I blush and look down.

"Um, do you need me to..." I trail off as I gesture toward the mess we've made on his stomach. He shakes his head and reaches down for the drawer of the nightstand on his left. His hand reappears holding a tissue and my nose wrinkles as I watch him clean himself up. "Do I want to know why there are tissues in your nightstand?"

"Probably not," he replies with a low chuckle, side-glancing at me. I shake my head, suppressing a smile as I move to lie down beside him on my back.

For the next half an hour, Edward and I talk. Not about anything in particular; it's a random conversation. We start on the topic of books and end up discussing foods. Don't ask me how. I think we're both just really looking forward to dinner.

My stomach is the first to rumble, but half way to having a tomato red face thanks to Edward's laughter, his stomach echos mine, halting his guffaws and beginning mine. To distract us both from dinner, Edward asks if I'd like to have a go on the piano, and as much as I'd have loved to sit at that beautiful instrument and play until I was forced to leave, I declined the offer. Playing the piano is not something I want to do when the devil-duo and Queen Bitch are somewhere in the house.

"Do you have many chores to do tomorrow?" Edward asks me after a few minutes of comfortable silence. I've moved to sitting up against the headboard again, and Edward _had _sat up with me but has since moved to lounge across the bottom of the bed.

I don't even have to think about his question. Chores are second nature to me, I know what I have to do each day of the week off by heart now. "I've gotta mop the hardwood floors and dust tomorrow. Oh, and I've still got a bit to do from Tuesday that I didn't get done thanks to _someone_," I say, giving him a pointed look.

He genuinely looks guilty but relaxes at my smirk, which I held off showing for a moment just to watch him sweat a bit.

"Does that mean we won't be able to do anything together tomorrow?" he asks and I shake my head, disappointed.

"No. Sorry."

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"Do you want to pop into the kitchen to see Bev for a minute?" Edward asks me as we pass the laundry room after leaving the garage. We used the stairs that pass through the garage instead of the ones that lead to the foyer; we could hear Alice and her friends' boisterous conversation from the floor below. I nod my assent - I'd agree to anything that prolonged the time before the moment I have to see the other Cullens. Luckily, seeing Bev is actually something I wouldn't mind doing.

"Hey, Bev. Dinner smells good," Edward announces as he walks in, me following closely behind. She turns away from the grill at the sound of his voice, a large smile on her face. Instead of looking at Edward, the person that spoke, she addresses me.

"Ah, hello, Bella. I hear you're staying for dinner?" she asks. I grin back at her, her happy mood contagious.

"Hey, Bev. Yes, I am. The Cullens were nice enough to invite me," I reply. Edward's scoff is only loud enough for me to hear, as I'm stood right next to him. I stealthily elbow him in the side. He looks down at me and raises his shoulders, mouthing "what?"

"How wonderful. I hope you like grilled chIcken?"

"I do. It smells delicious."

"Oh, thank you, dear," she replies.

Edward scoffs again, this time loud enough for Bev to hear, too. This makes her finally glance at him. "What am I, an apparition?" he questions, mock hurt on his face as he places a hand to his chest. Bev looks confused. "I said it smells good, too, Bev. Where's my thanks?"

Bev rolls her eyes, though her smile shows she can detect that he's jesting. "Don't be so dramatic, Edward."

"Yeah, don't be so dramatic, Edward," I repeat, smirking at him as I walk toward the kitchen counter by the sink. Edward, as mature as ever, sticks his tongue out at me, making me laugh. When I look back to Bev, she has resumed her tending to the food, but still has a large smile on her face. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask her. Her eyes are quick to meet mine, the smile less broad as she stares at me with shock clear on her face. I've cooked dinner everyday for about six years, unless Renee wanted to order takeout. It's strange not needing to cook the meal myself.

"No, I'm fine. But thank you for offering," Bev replies once she's recovered. Sometimes I forget that she's the Cullens' housekeeper, who obviously cooks for them some days, and that to her and this family, having the children (whatever age they might be) help around the house isn't ordinary. I glance at Edward who doesn't look shocked or confused, just really sad. I'm sure if he hadn't found out what he had on Monday evening, he'd have been showcasing the two former emotions instead.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind," I say, trying to be insistent without being rude.

"No, really, I-"

"I'll help, too," Edward interrupts, shocking me. I look at him, wide-eyed for a moment, and then I smile. "If that's okay," he adds when he sees both mine and Bev's attention is solely on him. Bev looks more shocked at his request then she did at mine.

"Well, I, um..." she glances around at the kitchen worktops around her. I've never witnessed Bev be unsure like she is now. She's always so confident and, despite her job, bossy and strongly-spoken. "I still have the salad to do. If you two want to, you can do that?"

I nod agreeably, and after tying my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head, I immediately turn to the sink I'm stood close to so I can wash my hands. I pass Bev to stand at the countertop that's facing the kitchen island, where the salad ingredients have been gathered. I grab the lettuce as Edward comes to stand beside me. He stands clueless for several moments, just watching me, before he reaches for a tomato. Before his fingers can even graze the tomato, however, I slap his hand just as Bev cries, "Don't you dare touch that before you've washed your hands, boy." I look up at his guilty face with a raised, accusing brow. He flushes as red as the tomato he was reaching for and quickly goes to wash his hands.

I chuckle with a shake of my head as he returns to my side. He jabs his elbow into my side which increases my chuckling, but when I look at his face again, his eyes are as wide as saucers, a mortified look on his face. His gaze flits down to my side where his elbow just connected, with hardly any force might I add, and I finally understand. He thinks he just elbowed my bruised side. Fighting back the urge to hug him fiercely in thanks for caring so much, I quickly glance at Bev who's focused on her task, and then raise onto my tip toes. "Don't worry. It's the other side. You didn't hurt me," I whisper into his ear. The look of relief that relaxes his tense expression adds to my fight against my urges.

It's a slow process, teaching Edward how to slice and chop properly, but we manage to complete the salad just in time for dinner. When his mother walks into the kitchen, just as we're finishing up, there is nothing that could mask her astonishment at seeing Edward stood with me and Beverly in the kitchen helping with dinner.

"Edward! What are you doing?" she demands, fuming. "Are you _cooking_?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it cooking. It was only a salad and Bella did most of the work," is his answer.

She stares at him, eyes wide, face red. She looks like she's about to burst. Her eyes briefly flicker to Beverly and then fall on me, which is when they narrow as her shocked look turns to one of abhorrence. "Edward," she says around a heavy sigh as she slowly looks back at him, "we aren't a family that make our children cook for us." When she says this, she looks at me with a quick, pointed look that has my cheeks burning red, though I don't lower my gaze from hers. "That's why we have Beverly on days I don't cook, so you and Alice don't have to."

"But I wasn't _forced_," Edward avows. "I _wanted_ to help."

Mrs Cullen's jaw ticks as she once again begins turning into a bomb that's about to explode. "Well I don't like it, so out of respect for me, please don't."

Edward's responding sigh is too quiet to be heard by his mother, but not by me. I quickly glance at him to see a look of sorrow on his face. "Fine," he answers quietly, lowering his head as he turns and walks out of the kitchen. I linger for only a second, quickly smiling at a sad looking Bev before I follow him out. I don't even chance looking at his angry mother.

I find him in the hallway, leaning against the wall. I stand awkwardly beside him for a moment before I reach up and pat his shoulder. "You okay?" I whisper.

"Yeah," he replies just as quietly, and after offering me the barest of smiles, he turns and walks toward the dining room, where his father, sister and her friends sit waiting.

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**A/N: Question: is it called a lemon only when they go all the way or is a lemon used when referring to anything sexual that happens in a chapter? When is it known as just 'fluff'? If it's not a term used for what happened in this chapter, then I'm sorry for the mix up.**

**Let me know your thoughts on this chapter in a review! I'd love to hear from you! I know not much happened in this chapter. Just a lot of talking, to be honest. Next chapter is an important one - I think so, at least. I'll aim to get it to you on Friday! Until then, buh-bye!**


	47. Chapter 47: 'The L-word' (Bella POV)

**A/N: Second and final update for this week! I hope you enjoyed the one from earlier this week. As always, thank you for the follows, favourites and reviews!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-seven: 'the L-word' (Bella POV)

_Thursday 13 July 2017_

Dinner last night at the Cullens was... awkward, to say the least. Edward was quiet, barely eating the food on his plate. I received glares from a majority of the table's occupants throughout. The only ones to not do so were Mr Cullen and Edward, the latter of which because he hardly glanced up from his plate.

Mrs Cullen didn't speak one word for most of the meal, other than to compliment Jessica on her necklace and Rosalie on her hair. She eventually spoke close to the end of the meal, to me, to ask why my mother decided to take a weeks leave off of work. I didn't have much of an answer, so I just told her the truth. Afterwards, I panicked silently, worrying that my mother hadn't told her boss the real reason she was absent. Maybe she lied and said she was ill?

I found out during that small conversation that my mother has been moved up to the offices instead of the reception desk, and now acts as Mrs Cullen's personal secretary. I had no knowledge of this, and neither did Edward by the way his head snapped up when his mother let it slip. It was one of the very few times he looked up from his plate. I wonder when this new development happened, or even how new it is? Maybe Mrs Cullen did it when she found out about mine and Edward's friendship. I hope she doesn't give Renee a hard time because of her dislike toward me. Not because I worry about Renee's feelings, but more because I know that if it _was _the case and she ever found out that _I'm_ the reason, I'd be in for a world of pain.

I didn't mange to finish my plate, probably because my body is so used to small-ish portions, and often no food at all when such is given as one of my punishments. My stomach isn't accustomed to the mighty plateful I was given. Mrs Cullen seemed to take it as a personal offense that I didn't finish it all, scoffing loudly when I announced that I was full but thanked them for the meal. For someone who seems to pride herself on her social status - being rich and poised - she doesn't act very cordially to her guests. Well, that's not entirely true. She was _extremely_ pleasant toward the other girls at the table, but not with me. I can't say I'm surprised... just disheartened, because the more she acted so foully with me, the darker Edward's mood got. I don't know if anyone else noticed, but I sure did.

I sat and waited for everyone to finish. Rosalie left more than I did in the end, but she got a jovial, "That's okay, dear. You ate what you could," from Mrs Cullen. I mentally rolled my eyes. Once I saw everyone was finished, I stood and began stacking their plates. It was an act I did completely out of habit; I didn't even think before I began doing it. I always clear away after dinner... at home. It was only once all the plates were stacked and the cutlery placed on top that I noticed all eyes were on me and the room was deadly silent. I immediately apologised for my forwardness and asked for permission to take the plates into the kitchen. Mr Cullen told me that I shouldn't because of my wrist, but when I insisted, Edward stood and said he'd take some to ease the weight off of my load. This clearly irked his mother but his father agreed with a nice enough smile.

_His _behaviour has confused me greatly. When I first sat down at the table, he asked how I was, making formal conversation. I didn't expect any less or any more; Mr Cullen has always shown more ease at tolerating my unwanted presence than his wife has. He then asked about my wrist and even wanted to look at it while we waited for the food to be brought in. He said it's healing nicely; I didn't let on to just how much pain I'm in, not wanting to admit to the fact that I do a lot of chores which doesn't let me rest it as much as he ordered. I'm sure it'll be fine.

Then the conversation went more formal again. It was actually quite pleasant, not super friendly but not uncomfortable. That was until he asked if Alice's friends and I knew each other, which I thought was a strange question to ask because who doesn't know everyone in Forks? _I_ humoured him, despite the animosity between Rosalie, Lauren, Jessica and myself. I told him we did know each other, that we grew up together in fact. However, they were less nice about it. Their answers were short, clipped variants of "we used to" and Rosalie even muttered "Unfortunately" rather loudly under her breath. Mr Cullen didn't comment on any of our answers and turned to his daughter, who he clearly dotes on (after watching him with her last night, I can see what Edward means about her being his parents' favourite).

As soon as it was permitted for us to leave the table, Edward had our belongings gathered and us out of the house. We went to the Diner for dessert, where his mood gradually lightened until I had him laughing and joking with me, as he should be.

We went our separate ways at 8:15PM; I needed to get home so I could go to bed at a reasonable enough time that would enable me to get up early today with energy to do my chores.

And that's what I'm doing right now - getting ready to do my chores, or more specifically eating breakfast to gain the energy needed for my day of mopping, dusting and window cleaning... inside _and_ out. I hate doing the latter chore. I don't do it as often as the others, but it needs to be done. I've been putting it off for ages.

I sigh as I clean my bowl, spoon and coffee mug. Dressed in my old sweats and baggy t-shirt, which I've had to tie at the waist because of how baggy it really is, I scoop my hair up into a high ponytail so it's out of the way and get cracking.

It's 8:30AM when I start, and 9:00AM when there's a knock at the door. I sigh and place the duster down on the end table in the front room before peering stealthily out the window. I can see Edward's car parked on the side of the road outside my house. _What is he doing here?_

I quickly jog to the entrance, and after patting at my hair and straightening out my clothes, which I'm now regretting putting on this morning, I unlock and open the door. He smiles when he sees me, and before I can ask the question that entered my mind as soon as I spotted his car outside, he has me pulled into a hug. "Hey," I say at his shoulder before we break apart, "what are you doing here?"

As I ask my question, he has me walking backwards so he can let himself in. He doesn't answer me as he turns and closes the door behind him. He toes off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket, revealing his kind of old looking clothes. There his _IDGAF_ clothes, like the ones I'm wearing at the moment. He turns to me with a wide smile. "I'm here to help!" he announces happily, arms spread out at either side.

I'm speechless for a while. I have no clue what to say to that. He's here to help? With my chores? In the end, I don't say anything... instead I throw myself at him. It's a totally unplanned move, but he catches me all the same. And again, completely unplanned, I press my mouth to his, showing him how thankful I am with a thorough kiss. It deepens unintentionally and soon I have the closed front door to my back while Edward takes control of our kiss, which is rapidly turning into more.

I could happily lose myself in the passion, but there's a small, very quiet voice in my brain telling me that I have things to do. I pull my head back, laying it against the door as I pant heavily. Edward's lips have already moved down my neck after parting from my own, and I hate my stupid responsibilities as I tug at his hair to get him to stop. He's breathing heavily, too, and his dark green hooded eyes have me wanting to forget all that I have to do and let this lead where it was going, but I can't. I know that. I offer him an apologetic smile as I remove my legs from around his waist - _when did that happen?_ \- so I can stand on my own two feet. He sighs as he releases me and steps back slowly.

He releases a breathy, embarrassed chuckle as he rubs a hand down his face. "Sorry. Didn't mean to do that," he says sheepishly.

I shake my head and grin as I take his jacket. "I think, if you recall, I initiated that one." I hang it on the hook that's on the wall by the door.

"Right," he says with another laugh as he follows me into the front room. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

"Mopping, dusting, and unfortunately, window cleaning," I say as I turn to him, all humour now erased from my voice and expression.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?" he asks. I simply stare at him for a few moments, trying to determine just how serious he is about this. When I find no trace of mockery or jokes, when I realise that he is being one hundred percent serious about this, I finally address him and my thoughts on the matter.

"You don't have to help me, Edward. They aren't your chores or your responsibility."

He scoffs, causing me to raise a brow in question. "I think you'll find that it _is _my responsibility because I am the reason you have extra to do today."

_Damn. _He wants to help because he feels guilty. Well, I can't have that.

I shake my head and avert my eyes from his vibrant green ones for just long enough to collect my thoughts. "Honestly, it's not much extra. Tuesdays are my least busy day." And this is true. Tuesdays often leave me with more spare time, which is why I work two hours after school on them instead of one like most of the other days of the week. And Tuesday was the day he distracted me. There honestly isn't much left to do from that day.

"I'm not taking no as an answer here, Bella. I'm going to help, with or without your guidance. But be warned, I don't know the first thing about mopping or cleaning windows, so I may create more work for you if you don't accept my help and just tell me what to do yourself." He crosses his arms across his chest, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

I sigh heavily, adding some extra sass to the exhale as I throw him a look of contempt. Inside, however, I'm grinning from ear to ear, secretly enjoying the fact that he is willing to do this for me. "Fine," I say with another forced sigh.

He grins and picks up the duster and can of furniture polish. I silently point to the coffee table and he nods. Before he begins however, he stops and thinks for a moment. After looking around the room, he turns to me and asks, "Do you have a radio or something here?"

"My Bluetooth speaker is upstairs on my desk?" I reply, though it comes out as more of a question than an answer.

"Is it charged?" I nod. "Perfect," he declares, handing me the cleaning products before disappearing from the room. I shake my head with a quiet chuckle to myself as I continue with what I was doing before he arrived. He returns barely two minutes later, focused on my speaker. He leaves it on the window sill, messes with his phone for a moment before putting that down beside it. The recognisable tune of Nickleback's 'Rockstar' begins playing strongly through my little speaker and I raise a questioning brow at Edward, who's taken the items out of my hands as he hums to the song. He looks at me and shrugs one shoulder. "What?" he asks.

"_Nickleback_? I didn't think rock music would be your kind of thing."

"It isn't usually," he answers with another nonchalant shrug, "but I figured we'd need something with a lively tempo to keep us going. Can't very well clean whilst listening to Moonlight Sonata now, can we? Do you _ever_ listen to music when doing your chores?"

"Not often. There have been a couple times, but they come few and far between." I can hear the sadness in my own voice and I hate it. "It's not something I can openly do when Renee's home," I admit quietly.

"Well," he says, "it's a good thing she's not here then, isn't it?" And with that he winks and begins dusting the wooden coffee table. He's right, she's not here, so I can do what is usually prohibited. With a smile I go to the kitchen to fetch an extra duster and return to the front room to join Edward in cleaning, all the while humming to each song that comes on.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

There's a collective sigh in the room as Edward and I collapse onto the couch in the back room. I told him earlier that the front room is off bounds to me unless I'm cleaning or in there upon Renee's request. He wasn't impressed, but accepted it and hasn't said anything about it since we finished in that room. With all hardwood floors in the house mopped, all wooden surfaced furniture, skirting boards, ceiling vertices and door frames dusted and all windows cleaned inside and out, we are _done._

We worked nonstop for hours. We didn't even have a lunch break. I have no idea what the time is, but that's soon not the case. My eyes are closed as I lay back on the couch cushions, my feet stretched out in front of me. Edward is in an identical position but is more fidgety than I am. The reason why is obvious when he breaks the silence, reading the time from his phone which he just fished from his pocket: "It's only one-thirty. Do you want to go get a late lunch at the Diner?"

I turn my face to him without actually lifting my head from the couch. "Sure. But I need to get ready first."

"Why? You're dressed already."

I look at him skeptically, wondering if he's serious for a moment, and then I look down at myself. Yeah, he's definitely not being serious. He _can't_ be.

"Edward, I'm in sweatpants that have a hole in the leg and I'm sweaty and covered in a fine layer of dust. I need to shower and change." I look over him, wrinkling my nose. "And so do you." He looks down at himself and laughs.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he says before heaving a sigh as he stands. He gives me his hand so he can pull me up. "Good thing I brought a spare change of clothes," he says with a wink as he heads for the door.

"Oi!" I exclaim, shocked. He turns to me, faux innocence plastered on his handsome face. "Why did you question me about getting ready to go out if you brought your own change of clothes."

He shrugs and looks me up and down, then smiles at me. "Because you look perfect the way you are. You always do." He leaves me with butterflies having a party in my stomach as well as feeling a mixture of shy and happy as he heads out to his car for his change of clothes.

I sigh contentedly as I head upstairs. I stop at the top and look to the bathroom door that's on my left and then to the right, which would lead me to my bedroom. I then turn to look down the stairs before going back to looking left and right. The decision I come to is made fairly quickly. I reach for the hem of my baggy t-shirt and pull it over my head, dropping it on the top step. I slowly walk into the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind me.

I don't close the door as I start the shower.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

After a late lunch in the Diner, we drove in Edward's car to his house where we then entered the trail that leads us to our meadow. Having anticipated this turn of events, I packed my usual backpack with a blanket and my speaker which still has some charge before we left my house earlier... after a relatively lengthy shower.

We are currently laying on the blanket, soaking up the weak amount of sunlight that's poking through the thick layer of clouds, while Chopin plays from my speaker.

The lack of conversation between us is comfortable, and I think back to a time only months ago when just the thought of him had me angry. He was this annoying, persistent new kid who couldn't seem to take a hint to leave me alone. And now here I lay beside him in my personal sanctuary, something I never dreamed of sharing with _anyone._ I intimately know every inch of his body and am familiar with the depths of his wonderful personality. Who would have thought.

I open my eyes and turn my head so I can look at him. The butterflies from earlier return in full force. He's in the same position as me, on his back, though he has one arm tucked beneath his head and his face is still skyward, eyes remaining closed. He looks so peaceful. He looks so handsome. I can see the sharpness of his jaw from this angle, the red in his hair thanks to the sunrays, despite their lacking strength. I look over all of him silently, and I smile when I see the fingers of his left hand tapping faintly to the classical music against his jean-clad thigh, his love for this style of music showing even in the simplest of moments.

His passion for music in general is one of the many things I've come to love about Edward.

That's right. I used the L-word.

There's something I realised today. I don't know when exactly, or how, but I know it to be the absolute truth.

I love Edward Cullen. I'm _in love_ with Edward Cullen, my best friend, my mother's boss' son.

I'm in love with my best friend, and I have no cluewhat to do about it.

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**A/N: *sigh* Love is in the air! I hope you liked this chapter. There will be a time jump between this chapter and the next**.** Please leave a review and I'll be back next week. Not sure when exactly it will be.**


	48. Chapter 48: 'Where? When? Why? How' (B)

**A/N****: Hey, I'm back. I apologise for the lack of updates last week. As I've mentioned previously, my health sucks and it does have an affect on what I can do on a day-to-day basis. Anyway, for the last week-ish I've had a really shitty time, health wise, so that's my reasoning. I do have something important to tell all of my readers, so please don't leave before reading the bottom A/N. As always, thanks for the follows and faves. I'm very grateful!**

**As you'll see in just a moment, the time jump I mentioned last chapter is almost exactly two months. The summer is over and school has started back up again... but I'll let you find that out for yourselves ;)**

**Happy reading!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-eight: Where? When? Why? How? (Bella POV)

_Sunday 10 September 2017_

"I am so fucking sick of repeating myself, Isabella!"

I hold back a sigh, and keep my eyes directed down at my feet.

"How many times have you made this breakfast for me? How many times have you made it to an... _acceptable _standard? I won't say perfect because let's face it, you've never made a perfect breakfast for me. You don't have it in you."

Again, I hold back a sigh. A telling off _and_ insults? Is that it? Lucky me.

"This is two times in as many weeks that you've fucked this up? What is wrong with you?"

_Maybe the fact that you've been a nightmare to live with, more than usual, in the last few weeks has me on edge, more than usual?_

_Maybe it's because you woke me up at 2:00AM, cleaning the projectile vomit from the bathroom after you'd stumbled in, drunk, like some reckless teenager?_

_Maybe it's due to the fact that I haven't had a run of three consecutive days in the last few weeks without you hitting me or kicking me or scratching me or pushing me?_

_Or maybe, and most probably, it's a combination of all that. A big build up of the shit that you, my mother, have put me through recently._

Oh how I wish I could say all of this out loud. How I wish I could scream it all in her face. But I don't, and I most likely never will. To do that would be like signing my own death wish. I've only talked back to my mother a couple times, and that was close to the beginning of the change in her behaviour, when I was less accustomed to how I should deal with her. And the punishments I received for those very few times were enough for me to have learned my lesson.

I've messed up this meal, as she said, two times in the last two weeks (last Saturday and then again today). They've been silly mistakes, things I haven't been able to rectify because she has demanded I set her plate down 'on time'. So, for the second time in as many weeks, here I stand beside the kitchen table, staring down at my feet while I get reprimanded by my angry mother. She's still sat in her seat, her untouched plate of food on the table in front of her, her still full cup of coffee beside that. Last week I got an open palmed strike to the ear - it had my ear ringing for a long while after. Today, I have no clue how she'll 'teach me a lesson'.

Her hand slams down against the table top, drawing my attention away from my feet. Once my eyes are on her, and not a moment before, she slowly stands from her chair which, somehow, silently slides away from her. This action is done with much suspense, it's slow and deliberate and has my heart galloping in my chest with fear of what she'll do next. She takes one step toward me, and I respond by stepping back. Another step forward by her, and an answering retreat by me. This repeats until I can cower away no further. I'm cornered against the wall and the side of the shelving unit that holds all the cookbooks at the back of the room. I freeze and stare up at her glowering expression, wondering what she has planned for me next.

"Will you be seeing Edward today?" I'm momentarily put off by her question, having no idea why she'd ask me that. After a couple of seconds have passed, I realise that I need to answer before she becomes even more infuriated with me, so I nod silently. She looks highly disappointed with my answer and rolls her eyes. "Fine," she says with a sigh, and just when I think that that's it, she's going to leave and I won't get more than the telling off I've already had, she heaves another disappointed sigh and says quietly and darkly to herself, but loud enough for me to hear, "Guess your face is off bounds."

I'm confused and feel my brows lift up in the split second between her strange statement and the air leaving my lungs. I double over just as she steps away, lowering her fist from my stomach. I did not see that coming. Why do I never see them coming? After all these years, you'd think I'd be more aware of a blow before it connects with me, but I never seem to notice until it's too late.

I'm winded for what feels like hours, but is probably only thirty seconds. I have to lower myself to my knees as the air struggles to return to my lungs. My eyes are watery because of my struggle as I kneel at her feet, gasping for air.

"I know you won't show him that part of you. Why would you? Or more to the point, why would _he _want to see _that_? I feel like a fool for ever believing he was fucking you; he'd need his head testing if that were true, and according to his mother he's a bright boy so I don't think that's the case anymore."

I don't look up at her as she spits those awful words down at me. Everything she just said hurts more than the punch I've just received to my midsection, because although I'm rather forward with Edward when it comes to _that _part of our relationship, there has always been a part of me that fears he'll find my bruised up body repulsive. And that fear has been getting a little bigger every week since Renee returned from her trip away, since the bruises started appearing more frequently.

She crouches down in front of me and I flinch which, when I look up at her face, I see has pleased her greatly. "You keep that disgusting body of yours covered. Do you hear me? If I even suspect that you've been blabbing about the private goings on of this house, I will not hesitate to be more forceful than I have _ever_ been. Understand what I'm saying?" she threatens with a sinister smile. I gulp and nod shakily. "Good. And do something about those hideous freckles on your face; I've told you before, I hate seeing them."

She stands fully and leaves the room, her breakfast and coffee untouched. I release a heavy, relieved sigh as I drop to the side, sliding my legs from beneath me until they're stretched out in front of me. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes, willing the tears to go away as I know I can't stay down here on the floor for too long. She'll probably be in to check on me soon enough, and besides, if I really do want to go and see Edward later, I need to get the rest of my chores done _and _complete some of the homework I received this week, which was surprisingly a lot considering it was only our first week back.

The summer is over, school has started again. Tomorrow begins the second week of my junior year. Yep, I'm officially a junior in high school. Honestly, I don't feel much difference on the school side of things, though my teachers won't stop banging on about how it is even _more_ important to study in our own time now than ever before. How this is the most important year. They've said similar things every year prior to this one.

The first day of school brought the return of the I-Hate-Bella-Swan club... a club most are a part of. Summertime usually gives me a reprieve, because for a majority of the time, all the students are too focused on having an awesome summer to torture me. For all the summers that came before the one we've just had, I hardly ever had any trouble. It's only because I'm with... I mean _friends_ with Edward, that I had to deal with them at all. But he's worth it. Our _friendship_ is worth it.

Thankfully, the Hale's went on their usual tropical summer vacation abroad during August, and the McCarthy's went away for a couple weeks too. That left only Jessica, and of course Alice, which still meant I had the odd issue, but it was no where near as bad as when the other two are involved. And, of course, the guys were still around, apart from Jasper Hale and Emmett McCarthy, but they didn't seem to hang around Alice and Jessica whilst the other two girls and guys were away.

Now they're _almost_ all back together, and they are back with a force. I say 'almost', because Jasper is of course away at college now, having been a senior and graduated at the start of summer. I don't know where he's gone like the rest of Forks' residents probably do, and to be quite honest, I don't really care. All I care about is that this is Rosalie's last year at Forks High; hopefully things will calm down in a years time. A years not _too _long to wait... _this is what I keep telling myself._

Already, in just the first week, I've had _**BITCH**_ scratched into the side of my truck and have been called into the Principal's office, for being _anonymously_ accused of cheating in my exams at the end of Sophomore year. There wasn't much he could do because of the time in between my said crime and the person coming forward about it, but I have been given a warning about the severity of such an act and that if I were to be caught cheating, I would suffer grave consequences. So, it seems that Rosalie is determined to make my life a living hell while she still can. Because she and I both know that the moment she, and all the power that she holds, is gone from this school, her friends that will be stuck here for another year won't be able to get away with half the shit she has over time.

The vandalism to my truck was heartbreaking to say the least, because it's an object that links to my father and I hated to see it defaced in any way. I had it immediately fixed - Edward gave me a ride to and from school the following day while my truck was in the garage. The accusation honestly didn't bother me that much in comparison. All I got was a warning... _oooh, so scary._

Edward wasn't pleased about either thing, but I've tole him there's nothing he can do about it, especially while the Mayor's daughter, who happens to be the instigator of most if not all of the 'pranks', is still at the school.

_Edward_... things with him have been great but tough, to put it simply. Great, because, well, we're just inseparable. I was under the impression for so long that I was destined to be a loner while stuck in this town. I thought I would complete my time at Forks High an outcast, a friendless victim of the vilest of teenagers this town has to offer. However, though I am still very much an outcast, I am no longer friendless. I have Edward, and to me, he is _so much_ more than a friend. He doesn't feel the same about me, and to be totally honest I have tried my damned hardest to unfeel what I feel, but it's been impossible.

The strong feelings, the _love _I feel for him, which I realised almost two months ago now, has only grown since then. It was through no fault of my own. I tried to fight it, really I did, because I know it's wrong. Me being in love with my best friend can only end badly, surely. And this is why my _friendship_ with Edward has also been really tough lately. I fight my feelings everyday, but it only seems to make it worse. I fight telling him on a daily basis; the words are often on the tip of my tongue, but I always manage to hold them back, knowing that the moment I let them out, I'll ruin everything. And I'm not willing to lose him. Not yet.

In public, around others, basically whenever we aren't completely sure that we are alone, we act as two friends who are nothing more would. It's hard not kissing him when I want to or sitting as close to him as I'd like to, but it's necessary. When we are alone, on the other hand, we are the complete opposite. I think him tutoring me for maths is going to have to be a thing we do in public this academic year, because when left alone, we're insatiable. Most of the time, we do nothing but make out and fool around. I've even gone on the pill, something I had to do before we bought out Forks' condom supply. I had it sorted a week after my mother returned from her trip away. We are _intimate_ whenever we get the chance, which can be unbearably scarce sometimes, thanks to his mother who seems to have made it her personal mission to intervene on our time together as much as she possibly can. And, of course, thanks to Renee and her recent unpredictable behaviour.

Now, things with _her _have been anything but great, and inexorably worse than just tough. Upon her return from her trip away with her friend back in July, she had changed. It was instantly noticeable and positively frightening. The drinking has stayed, so has the punishments and all that accompany them, but now they are _w__orse_. All of it is worse. She is drinking excessively. It won't be long before Mrs Cullen fires Renee for turning up to work drunk. She's already gone in hungover a few times. She's more foul mouthed than ever before, and that's saying something when she couldn't go a day without dropping an f-bomb at least once beforehand. She's more free with her hands and her feet, _a__ lot more free._ And now, she doesn't need an excuse to use them. I noticed that as soon as she returned.

I was ordered to take her bags up to her room, and once I was done I was sent to my room with no food and no explanation, just a whack across the back of my head for "being too fucking slow". I was allowed out of my room the next day, which was a Sunday, to clean and go to work when Angela called me in, but once I returned home, I was making dinner and was almost decapitated by a flying wine glass. It _just_ missed my head, and went whizzing past me into a kitchen cabinet close by. The empty wine bottle came soon after. I did end up with a little cut on my ear from a flying shard, but that was nothing in comparison to the clean up job I was left with. Apparently, that temper tantrum was her way of asking for more wine. From then on, unless she's ordered otherwise, I'm not to leave her with an empty glass if I'm in the house.

Another thing that's changed with my mother is her random absences. It's mostly at night. She'll be home for dinner but will sometimes just head out without a word of explanation to me, steaming drunk or almost there. She won't return for hours. A number of times it has been the entire night that she's been gone, not returning until morning when she's needed to get ready for work. Last night was an example of her going out for many hours but not the entire night, which is what I meant earlier when I said how she'd had me up at 2:00AM cleaning vomit from the bathroom. She had failed to make it to the toilet in time and literally came into my room to wake me up so I could clean it, and so she could then head to bed and leave me with all the work.

I wish I could say it's getting better now that the school routine is back, but I'd be lying. I don't know how well I'll do this year with my school work if she has me up in the middle of the night cleaning her messes and wondering where the hell she is and what she'll do when she gets back. One thing I am glad about is that Edward now knows about Renee and her _ways. _I didn't think I'd ever admit that, but it's true because if he _didn't _know already, then I'd have a tough time hiding it from him. I'm not without bruises as of late, but I'm relieved that it's no longer summer, so I can wrap up without drawing attention to myself. And yes, even with the bruises, Edward and I are still intimate. He told me pretty quickly to forget about hiding myself around him, like I did the night he found out, when I insisted on wearing my t-shirt the entire time to hide the bruise on my ribs.

He asked me that night to tell him _everything_ from now on. Everything that Renee does to me. I have kept my word... for the most part. I haven't told him _everything_, but he is privy to almost all of it. A lot of the time, if there is physical evidence, I don't bother coming forward with the information and simply wait until he's discovered a new mark on my body, which isn't hard for him to do when he sees me naked. There are also times when I'll tell him about a new bruise so he knows to be careful or so he knows that I'm in too much pain to do anything, like I may be today now thanks to the winding punch I was just given.

He is yet to find out about the bruise I have across the back of my legs.

Yesterday, Renee asked me to go and buy some milk because we were running out. I did, but I took too long and she was waiting for me in the kitchen, a dish towel in hand when I returned. She was ranting about a snails pace and wanting a coffee she shouldn't have to wait for. The entire time, she had been twisting and pulling and knotting and just messing around with a dish towel, keeping her hands busy... or so I thought. After making her a milky coffee (which she later added some liquor to), I turned my back to her so I could put the milk in the fridge and was stunned by an agonising snap across the backs of my thighs. She had whipped me with the wound up dish cloth she was playing with. It stung and burnt like hell and caused me to drop the large carton of milk, emptying it's contents all over the floor at my feet. She walked out of the room with her coffee without a word.

Edward will find out about the painful dark purple almost black stripe I have across the backs of my thighs eventually. He doesn't ask me if anything happens in between times I see or speak to him, but if he sees a mark I haven't mentioned or explained, he isn't afraid to ask questions. I'm hoping to head over to his in a bit, so he might notice it then, depending on what we get up to.

Thinking about Edward and going to his house, I pull myself up from the floor and clear away Renee's untouched breakfast. The coffee is chucked down the sink, but I steal a sausage and piece of bacon before binning the rest of the food. I quickly eat them, biting my tongue in my rush to remove all the evidence from sight. I gulp down a glass of orange juice to mask the possible smell of food on my breath before I go in search of Renee. She's in her bedroom, where I find her putting makeup on once she let's me enter. I want to ask if she's going somewhere, but I fear I'll sound too hopeful which could piss her off. Instead, I stay silent.

Luckily, it's not long before her plans are revealed to me anyway. She _is_ going somewhere, but where exactly I have no idea. She's really dolled up so it must be somewhere nice. She tells me that she wants all my chores done before she gets back, which won't be until later tonight I know because she _then _told me not to bother making her any dinner tonight; she's got that sorted already.

As soon as she's down the stairs, I rush to my bedroom and to my window. I peer out of it in what I hope is an undetectable way so I can see if she's driving herself or getting picked up. The latter is the case today. Is she going on a date? I don't think she's been on one since my father died. I hope that the person picking her up, if it is a date, gets out to open her door for her just so I can see who it is, but they never do. I can't see inside the car, so I don't know if it's someone from Forks. I don't even know if it's a man or a woman; after all, it may not be a date, she could just be going out with a friend. She left the house wearing a black mini dress and heels, so maybe she's off partying? I don't know.

And right now, I don't have time to care. I quickly get started on the rest of my chores for today, as well as completing my homework.

After all is done, I quickly shower and get ready to head to Edward's. It's not sunny today, but it is dry; it's overcast. I'm really hoping we can go to our meadow this afternoon. I pack two blankets just in case, and put a long black hoodie on over my green button-up plaid shirt. The hoodie reaches mid-thigh (I guess most girls would wear it with some thigh high boots, but that is really not my style). I have some denim skinny jeans on and my black converse. Nothing fancy at all.

I don't bother covering my freckles, despite what my mother said earlier. I'll just make sure to cover them before she gets back later. I keep my hair down after quickly pulling a brush through it, make sure I have everything, and I'm good to go.

Before I go, however - actually, before I got dressed - I do check over my stomach. It's tender and I have a nice bright red splodge at the top of my stomach. _Fantastic_. I quickly logged it but plan on taking another picture after the colour has changed over the next couple of days. I've been using my log books and camera case much more recently.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

"Can I show you something?" I turn my head to the left, removing my gaze from the clouds above so I can look at Edward. We are currently laying side by side on one of the blankets I brought with us to the meadow. He's looking at me expectantly. When we arrived, we made out for a little while before attempting some cloud watching. We had a competition going on over the summer: who can come up with the craziest shape in the clouds. It's funny what the pair of us can come up with when we lay here long enough.

Over the summer, there has also been several times that I've spotted heart shapes in the clouds which is extremely infuriating and I never point them out; it's like the skies tease me about my feelings for Edward as much as my own conscience does. Today, there isn't much to see in the clouds because there are so many of them. There are barely a handful of patches of blue sky to be seen.

"Of course you can," I reply to his question. He grabs his phone which is playing some classical music, and turns said music off. He looks at me with a small smile once he's stopped playing with his phone for a few minutes.

"Okay, so I was messing around on my piano earlier and came up with this. I recorded it because I wanted to show you. It's not much. Just a few bars... tell me what you think?" He inhales deeply, looking and sounding nervous, before he presses play on his phone. He holds the device between us so we can both hear it. I keep my head turned his way as I listen to the few bars, mesmerised by the short demo coming from his phone.

"Again," I whisper and close my eyes, really concentrating this time. When it finishes for the second time, I open my eyes and smile at Edward, who looks instantly relieved and smiles back. "Edward, that's... it's incredible. I _love _it. I can't wait to hear the finished product."

"I'm glad you like it," he says, his smile broadening to a wide grin. I ask him to play it again and he does, this time putting his recording on repeat before placing his phone down on the small space between us. I turn onto my side and Edward is quick to copy, so we are now facing each other properly.

I raise my left arm, which no longer has the restriction of a splint - Mr Cullen asked me into the hospital to have an x-ray eventually, when the six weeks was at an end. He declared it all healed and removed the splint. It was very weak at first, and felt so strange without the splint, but it's getting back to normal now. I place my hand on his cheek and slowly move forward until my body is aligned with his. The phone has been trapped between us, still playing that short clip of beautiful music on repeat.

He is the first to lean in to meld our mouths together, but I am rapid in my response. It's only kissing at first, very passionate kissing which quickly results in heavy breathing and wandering hands as the music and cloud watching is forgotten. In no time at all, I'm laying on top of Edward and he is soon tugging at the hem of my long hoodie. I sit up, ignoring the slight nip of the bruise across the backs of my legs as I quickly pull off my hoodie. I rush to drop back down to him. Bracing my arms at either side of his head, I look down at him, my hair a curtain around both of our faces.

He's so handsome, and I've noticed in the time he's been in Forks how his looks are altering slightly, as time goes by. He'll change more yet, but already his jaw is a little more refined, his features all sharpening. How can he, someone so handsome, want me? It doesn't seem right, and yet, here we are. Me straddling his waist as he gladly runs his hands up and down my sides, waiting for me to kiss him once more.

"Do you think it's possible for someone to find us here?" I ask him in the privacy of my curtain of hair, as I lift one hand to stroke his cheek.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "What, do you mean _ever _or just today?"

"Today."

He is silent for a second. "No," he whispers, "I don't think so... Why?"

"Because I want you," I say, losing half the sentence in the kiss I initiate. This meadow is one place we have yet to christen. When we come here, we never go further than kissing. It wasn't something we agreed on verbally, that's just the way it played out. But right now, I don't care about our unspoken agreement. I need it. I need him.

Edward's hands glide from my sides to my back just before he pulls my torso infinitely closer to his own. The action is so sudden that I can't hide my sharp intake of breath... and unfortunately it's not for a good reason. Edward instantly freezes before he rushes to pull his mouth away from mine, pushing at my shoulder so he can look over my entire face.

"Where?" is all he asks at first. I sigh and sit up, slowly unbuttoning my shirt to reveal my newest blemish. Edward doesn't gasp like he did with every single bruise I would show him less than two months ago. He's used to this now, as horrible as that is to admit. He just sighs and shakes his head, sliding his hands beneath either sides of my open shirt to hold my waist as he inspects it further. "When?" is his next question.

"This morning," I reply, looking down at my stomach.

"Why?"

"Because I messed up her breakfast," I admit quietly. He sighs. I know what he'll ask next, but don't bother saving him the trouble. It's like I always hope he won't ask, but that's never the case.

"How?"

I close my eyes, keeping my head hung low. "She punched me."

The only noise around us for a moment is the muffled sound of the music that's still playing on his phone - I think I accidently covered it with my hoodie. I open my eyes when I feel Edward's hands at my waist guiding me up. I look down at him, confused for a moment as I raise up to my knees like he's indicating for me to do. My confusion melts away when he presses a tender kiss to the forming bruise high up on my stomach. Tears quickly fill my eyes and I thread my fingers into his hair. I tip his head back and press my lips to his, a lone tear escaping each eye as I clench them both tightly shut. I lower myself back down to his lap and pour everything I am feeling at this moment into it. Every overwhelming feeling of adoration, every miniscule of gratitude. It's all portrayed as best as physically possible as our tongues dance together.

After a few minutes we have to pull apart, both in need of air. I lay my forehead against his but keep my eyes open as I stare into his. Those three little words, such strong and powerful yet tiny words, are on the very tip of my tongue, on the verge of tumbling off for good.

My breathing is gradually regulating, so is Edward's, but that doesn't interfere with our imploring staring. When Edward raises his hands to wipe away both tear tracks that my singular tears left behind, I quickly reach up to cover his hands with mine as I close my eyes and take a deep breath in.

"I love you."

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**A/N: It's out there! It's been said! How will this affect their _friendship_? Let me know your thoughts and predictions in a review! Next chapter does follow directly on from this one!**

**Okay, so... about that important thing. I have a very vital week for my health coming up this month. It's mid-month and will mean that I'll be unable to post. Then, I don't know how the treatment will affect me. I'm hoping the results will be all positive but it's highly likely I'll "crash", so I don't know when I'll be able to post after it. I'm hoping I'll be gone for 2 weeks at the most, but unfortunately, it is possible that that could be a minimum. Anyway, this doesn't mean I'm abandoning this story. Far from it! I'll still work on writing bit by bit while I'm absent, and I'll return as soon as possible. To make up for this news, next week I plan to post 3 times.**

**Thank you for reading and I'll see you again next week!**


	49. Chapter 49: Listen to me, Bella Swan (E)

**A/N: First update of this week! So, last chapter was a BPOV and ended with a not-so-little declaration. I hope you like this follow on... from a different POV. As always, thanks for reviewing!**

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I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-nine: 'Listen to me, Bella Swan' (Edward POV)

_Sunday 10 September 2017_

"I love you."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Bella's eyes snap open. Her large, currently watery brown eyes hold mine with a look so fierce, it's impossible to look away. But that's a good thing, because I don't want to. Even after admitting something so delicate.

I've known I've loved her for a while now. I think I was in love with her even before I knew it. _Long _before I knew it actually. It's a knowledge I've been keeping to myself for quite some time. I think the fact that I love her is why it hurt so much when she rejected me over two months ago, after we watched that Gladiator movie.

For me, agreeing to start up this _friends-with-benefits_ arrangement we've got going on was my way of getting closer to the person that I love, though I didn't know this at the time. Some people may think this was a stupid idea because for all I know Bella was just proposing the idea to test her own teenage curiosities. I think that was the case at first, but I don't know, I just feel like something has changed between us since then. Something has shifted between us.

Around other people, we act as two best friends would, but when we are alone, we act as a couple would. And I'm not just talking about the sex - which is incredible by the way. No, it's more than that. Though we do do _that_ a lot, we are also content to just sit and hold hands while we talk or lay in each others arms while we take a nap. We are content with just being together.

We bring out the best in one another. I know that she has changed me for the better. I find myself complaining less and less about my family, not just to her but to myself. I don't know if the fact that I'm privy to her horrendous home life has contributed in any way, but I find myself looking at things differently. More positively. Sure, I still find my families ways abhorrent and outrageous. They are stuck up and snobby, but they have also provided me with a life full of luxury, whether it was just because they felt like they had to or not. They love me in their own ways. I'm lucky to have them, because others, like Bella, aren't so lucky.

I realised my feelings for Bella went deeper than I'd ever imagined for the first time when she showed me a particularly nasty bruise not too long after I found out about the abuse. It covered the width of her back, right across the middle. It was caused by a ceramic ornament being thrown at her back, apparently because Bella turned her back on Renee before the bitch was finished scolding her for leaving the living room blinds a little wonky after cleaning them. I don't even know if you can call it a bruise exactly. It was awful. Black in most places and a ghastly deep purple in others. It took almost a month to fade away and when I first saw it, I actually shed a tear. My heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest and trampled on by a herd of elephants. I felt like _I _was the one that had been attacked, because when Bella is hurting, I am too. It's been that way with every injury she has shown me, no matter how minor they may be.

When I saw the newest one on her stomach, the one she received only this morning, I had the urge to do something I'd never done before: to kiss it. I haven't shied away from her injuries entirely these past few months - if I did that then I'd never be touching her. I have applied ointment to a few bad ones she's had on her back for example, but I don't go out of my way to pay attention to them either. It's not that they revolt me - that could never be the case - but it's because I hate to keep her attention on what Renee does to her. That's the reason I always stick to short quick questions, so that I can be knowledgeable of them but get the topic of conversation off of them as soon as. The urge to kiss the bruise today was a new thing for me. It was just right there, looking so painful and all I wanted to do was _somehow_ soothe the pain. She was straddling my lap and I knew that all it would take was for her to raise her stomach a little higher so it was almost in line with my jaw.

Once I pressed a kiss to the bruise, I felt her hands weave into my hair and turn my head upwards. The kiss was needy and grateful and loving all at once. When we parted only to rest our foreheads together, when I looked into her eyes and saw the tear stains on her cheeks, when I wiped them away and she placed her hands on top of mine, those three words just slipped out. It wasn't planned, but it isn't something I regret either, because in the moments building up to my quiet admission, right before she closed her eyes, I saw the warmth and affection within them. I wasn't sure if it was love, but at that moment I didn't care.

And now, as the silence drags on and on, I still don't care.

I don't know what the matter is with me. I've been avoiding uttering those words for long enough now, knowing that the consequences could be great, but right now I. Just. Don't. Care.

Bella's eyes jump back and forth between mine with rapid speed. "What?" she finally squeaks. It's the first thing she's said since I said those three words and I can't help but chuckle a little. I press my lips to hers for a gentle kiss, and her hands, which are still resting over mine, slide down to my wrists. My hands don't leave her face as I pull my mouth away from hers and lean our foreheads back together.

"I. Love. You," I repeat, just as confidently as the first time. Though my heart is beating at a breakneck pace right now, I seriously _do _feel confident. Her eyes refill with tears and she let's out a strangled sob slash laugh as she launches her entire body at mine, releasing my wrists and almost knocking me back down to the blanket. I brace us with one hand to the blanket while the other wraps around her waist.

Bella pulls away, and now the rolls are reversed. _Her _hands cup _my_ face as she stares into my eyes. "Do you mean it?" she whispers. I don't know whether to feel hurt at her question or amused. But after reminding myself that she's gone for so long without any love and affection, I settle on amused yet saddened.

"Yes, Bella," I say back with as much conviction in my voice as I can possibly manage. "I love you. I've loved you for a while now. You're not just my best friend, and what we have isn't just a 'friends with benefits' arrangement. Not to me. It's _more_, it has been for a while. I..." I look away for a moment, a sudden flash of uncertainty presenting itself, but she urges my eyes back to hers with a slight pressure on my cheek. She stares at me intently as I continue speaking. "When my family moved here, I didn't expect to like anyone, to befriend anyone. Especially when I met the types of people in this town. I didn't even want to move here, I hated the idea. But then I met you, and yes, you were a little... _difficult_ to reach in the beginning." At that she chuckles and looks down. Now it's my turn to tilt her gaze back to mine. "But you let me in eventually and I couldn't be happier about it. I didn't expect to find friends here in Forks. I was going to settle for my sister's choices and get through high school without any attachments to this town. I didn't expect to meet _you._ I didn't expect to fall in love." A lone tear eacapes one of her eyes and I reach up to wipe it away. "I _do _love you, Bella. When you're happy, I'm happy. When you're down, I want to do everything in my power to make you smile again. When you hurt, I hurt," and as I say this I gently place my hand underneath her open shirt, over her newest bruise.

"Oh, Edward," she breathes, wrapping her arms around my neck and leaning forward to press a hard kiss to my lips. She pecks my cheeks and eyes and nose and then my forehead with little kisses before returning to my mouth. She pulls away too soon, her eyes closed for a second before she opens them and rests her forehead to mine. "I love you, too." I inhale sharply at her whispered admission, having hoped so much for the words but still not fully expecting them. The smile to stretch across my face a moment later is sure to blind her, but her answering one is just as wide. "I've known for a while, too, I just wasn't sure when or even _if_ I should tell you. I was scared you'd reject me or that me telling you would ruin our friendship. And I couldn't handle that because I've come to rely on you. _You're_ my sanctuary, not this place," she says as she gestures to the meadow around us. "It's _you_. I wouldn't care if I could never come to this place again as long as I have you. I wanted to tell you, so many times the words were on the tip of my tongue but I just wasn't sure how you'd react. I never suspected that you felt the same, though I am _so_ pleased that you do. I just wasn't sure you could love someone like me-"

"Like you? What do you mean?" I pull my head away at her words. She sighs heavily and my brow furrows deeply.

"You know... someone with such a difficult past. I'm fucked up, Edward. My life is fucked up. I've lost everyone who ever cared about me, one being my fault, and I've been alone for so long. I've believed for so long that I'm unlovable. Maybe I don't deserve it or I'm not worthy of it, but it's what I've believed. I mean, who can ever love me if my own mother doesn't even love me?"

I can't hear anymore of this. My hand flies up to her mouth where I firmly shut her up. "Now you listen to me, Bella Swan. Your past and your current circumstances do _not_ make you fucked up. You are _not_ the reason your father is gone and you are _not_ unworthy of love. If anything you are the most deserving person of it. You've been dealt a shitty hand in life that most people wouldn't be able to handle, yet you survive each and every day. You have done for almost_ seven years._ That doesn't make you fucked up or unlovable. That makes you the strongest and bravest person I have ever met. Your mother is an evil monster. She treats you in the most atrocious of ways but yet here you are, a stubborn-assed feisty young woman who I am _privileged_ to be loved by." She giggles happily at my words, wiping the moisture from her face with the back of her hand. "If you're unworthy of love then everyone else in this world is far less so. I mean, what's not to love? You're kind and funny and passionate about the things you love. You're strong and you're brave and yes, you can be stubborn as hell but I love you all the more for it. And of course, you're stunning." She goes to roll her eyes but at my stern, warning look thinks better of it and just smiles.

She sighs happily as she wraps her arms back around my neck. "I'm the privileged one," she whispers around a wide grin, before pressing her mouth to mine. I shake my head lightly and smile into the kiss as I wrap my arms around her, making sure not to squeeze too hard this time.

Our smiles slowly slip away as our lust grows stronger. My shirt is the first to go, and soon after I'm pushing her already open shirt from her shoulders, flinging it away. It's not long before the rest of our clothes have been discarded, even Bella's necklaces. She places open-mouthed kisses on my neck and behind my ear - something I seriously love - as she reaches down to wrap her hand around my hard length to place me at her entrance. Not much foreplay is needed today; the build up of kisses was enough to get her ready.

Her mouth returns to mine, hovering just above it as she sinks down onto me, drawing out groans from the both of us. We remain not even a breath apart at the mouths as she pulls up slowly and drops back down just as slowly. She repeats this action again, in the same agonisingly slow tempo. Our mouths finally meet in a crash as we find a rhythm that suits us both. What starts out as slow and gentle soon turns into fast and needy. We're both chasing our highs, with me doing more of the work from below so she doesn't have to aggravate the bruise on her stomach too much. My hands grip her waist tightly so I can stop her movements, but with my thrusts continuing, as our mouths part. Bella's moans are close to my ear as she buries her head in my neck, spurring me on.

I can feel her nails digging into the bare flesh of my shoulders and the slight pain only adds to the immense pleasure. "Oh God... Edward... I'm..."

Nothing will ever beat the feeling of her inner muscles squeezing me as she reaches her climax. I can never withstand it. It always succeeds in tipping me over the edge right along with her. I wrap one arm around her waist, the other around the top of her back as I bury my face in her hair and moan loudly.

Her hair is plastered to her sweaty back beneath my arms and after giving myself several moments to slow my breathing, I unwrap my arms from around her and scoop her hair out of the way so I can kiss her shoulder that's closest to me. She giggles breathlessly as she pulls her face from the crook of my neck. "Well, we can both officially say we've done it outdoors now," she says with another giggle as she pulls herself back enough to see my face. She's holding herself up with a hand at either side of my head, looking down at me with her long hair all swept over her right shoulder, hiding most of her arm, a larger than large grin on her face. The smile contorts as she shivers.

"We can, but maybe next time we should do it in the summer?" I suggest, grinning. She nods and stretches over to her bag. She laughs at my sigh as I lose her heat.

"It's a good thing I brought two blankets today," she says as she returns to my lap with a large blanket. She resumes her previous position, but wraps the blanket around herself and then drops to my chest, burying her face back into my neck so now we're both cocooned in the warmth. I wrap my arms around her beneath the blanket and peck the top of her head. She releases a wistful sigh and I nudge her head so she lifts it. Remaining close to me beneath the blanket, she looks down at me. "Don't you wish we could stay here, like this, forever?"

I smile and nod solemnly. "That would be a dream," I reply, looking into her eyes, which, at this close proximity, look like a swirling pool of chocolate. "Bella?" I say her name softly, though I have no clue what I plan to say next. She nods, not breaking our eye contact. "Would you be my girlfriend?" I ask, and then blush, both because I honestly didn't expect to say that and also because of how silly the question sounds. Her answering smile is blinding.

"Really?" she breathes.

"Yeah," I nod with a bashful smile. "That term sounds so inadequate for us, doesn't it?"

"No, no," she rushes to say. "It's fine. It's _wonderful._ I would love that."

I grin at her and raise my head the small distance needed to press my mouth to hers. It's a slow, tender kiss, differing so much from the deep, lust filled ones we were exchanging not too long ago.

"I love you," she whispers and I return the sentiment before she returns her head to my neck with another sigh, though this time it sounds much more content than wistful.

Her skin is slightly cold, even beneath the blanket, so I rub my hands up and down her arms to try and help warm her up. It's only after a few passes that I freeze at the tops of her arms, one of my hands resting on her left tricep where I know a yellow patch is. It's a bruise that's close to being completely gone now. It's not too big, not the biggest one I've seen on her, but when it was fresh it was completely black. There wasn't one millimeter of another colour anywhere on that patch of skin. She recieved that one for moving Renee's makeup bag - in reality, all she'd done was tidy it away.

Bella tenses underneath my touch and I wish I'd never brought attention to it. She slowly pushes up until she's once again propped up with a hand at either side of my head. My hand doesn't fall away from her arm. She stares at me for a moment, a pensive look on her now saddened features. She then looks away from my face and down at my chest. She remains silent for a long minute. "I have another one that you haven't seen yet," she confesses, almost reluctantly.

"What?" My shock is palpable. She's gotten _two_ more since I last saw her? _Fuck! _This is only getting worse! I so wish I could do something about it! I hate the _monster_ \- not woman - that does this to her. I can't believe I ever thought she was a nice perso, and I can't believe that I once told Bella she was lucky to have a mother like _that_. It just goes to show, you shouldn't jump to conclusions without all the facts.

She nods sullenly. "Sorry for not telling you sooner."

"Don't apologise. Where?" And so my four-step questioning begins. I ask the same four questions every time. I've done it from the first one she showed me after that day I found out. It seemed like the best course of action to attain all the necessary information at the time and it's just stuck. I know Bella hates to reveal anything, but I'm aware of this now. I can't just turn away and pretend like everything's fine.

She doesn't meet my eyes once as she answers my four questions, as well as my worries about possibly hurting her because I didn't know about the bruising sooner. She promises me that I didn't. And then, without a word, she climbs off of my lap and shows me. Across the backs of both of her thighs, about half way down, is a black, purple-y stripe. On the bottom of the stripe there seems to be a very faint checkered pattern. That proves what Bella said, about this being caused by the whip of a dish towel. I trace the stripe delicately, while Bella rests on her hip, tense from head to toe the entire time.

Still eerily silent, she reaches into her bag for the cream I've been applying frequently - _too _frequently. I feel some relief when I see her pull out the small tube; it's a sign that she planned to tell me about this one at some point today. I carefully apply it before throwing the cream to the ground in front of us and going to lay down behind Bella. She moved to lie completely on her side while I was applying the cream.

She stops me however, removing the blanket from around her body and throwing it over the both of us as she lays back down, pulling me with her. With my chest to her back, my arms around her waist, we lay silently for a while. The faint sound of my phone and the snippet of my newest composition still plays on a loop from somewhere behind us. I haven't bothered to turn it off since earlier.

Bella still hasn't uttered a word after five minutes of silence and I can't say I'm not worried. I prop my chin on her shoulder after placing a kiss to her skin and whisper, "I'm sorry," wanting to break the silence but not knowing how to in any other way than that. She shifts so she's on her back in front of me, looking up at me with a confused expression.

"What have you got to be sorry for?" _Yes!_ I got her talking!

I shrug and look down at her shoulder. "I'm just sorry that this happens to you."

"It's not your fault, Edward." I look at her face, into her eyes.

"It's not yours either," I reply quietly. She sighs and looks away. I can almost see the eye roll that she's holding back. I sigh, too. Why won't she believe me? Looking back down at her shoulder, I spot the two chains that are as much a part of Bella as her blood is. She must have put them back on before lying down, while I was applying the cream.

After glancing cautiously at her face and seeing that she's still gazing in the other direction, I tentatively reach up and trace the chain at the column of her neck. When I glance back up at her face, I'm shocked when I find that her eyes have locked onto me, suspicion as clear as day in them.

I trace the chain all the way to the key which is nestled between her breasts - those I try my hardest to ignore. I pick up the key and hold it close to my face so I can inspect it better than ever before. Still holding the old looking key, I look down at Bella. Her gaze is flicking restlessly between my face and the key in my hand.

"What is it for?" I ask eventually. Her gaze settles on my face and she looks flustered for a moment.

"Nothing," she answers in a rush after a moments hesitation. "It's just a piece of jewellery." She reaches out for it, but, without strangling her, I move it out of her reach. She glares at me.

"Seriously, Bella? You do realise I know you better than anyone."

She huffs. "That's what you like to think," she mutters grumpily under her breath.

"Am I wrong?" Her silence is all the answer I need. "Exactly. So, what's it for?"

She huffs again and pouts. I laugh but shake my head, not giving in. Her cute pout disappears and she suddenly looks extremely uncomfortable, making me feel beyond guilty. Just as I'm about to cave and tell her that it doesn't matter, she answers me.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you." Her answer is enough to peak my interest and have me swallowing my surrender.

"Try me," I tell her.

She sighs and just stares at me for some time. "Maybe I'll show you some time," is all she says, but I take this as a victory, as progress made, and smile widely. She smiles too, not as widely as me but still, it's a smile. She reaches for the key and just as before, I swipe it out of the way. She glares at me again.

"Promise?" I ask, grinning wider than before. She sighs but I can detect her lips pulling up at the corners. She nods and when she reaches for the key this time, I allow her to take it from me.

She frowns at me as she drops it to the space above her shoulder, further out of my reach while still keeping the chain about her neck. I chuckle and lower my head to her shoulder, kissing the skin there once more. I rest my chin on the top of her arm and look at her. "I love you," I say, earning a smile in place of her frown.

"I love you more," she replies.

"Not-" My reply is cut off by Bella reaching out to draw me in for a kiss. The cheeky minx.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

We left the meadow a little before 4:00PM. Bella had to be back home in time for her curfew, and to cook dinner for Renee. I left the meadow with her; it wouldn't feel right being there without her so I didn't stay, even when she told me that I could if I wanted to.

When I enter my house after waving Bella off, I pass Alice on the stairs. "Hey, Ali."

"Fuck off, Edward."

I grit my teeth and carry on down the stairs. I've tried making more of an effort with at least being nice to my sister since I found out about Bella, but Alice doesn't make it easy. Sometimes she'll reply pleasantly enough, but most of the time, especially lately, she's been a mega bitch. More so than usual. She's been like this since a couple weeks before the summer ended, when Jasper left for college. It turns out that there was more going on between them two than just fooling around like I'd assumed. They'd been on many dates and rumour has it Jasper had chopped down his number of girls considerably since he set eyes on my sister. His leaving has put Alice in a foul mood for most of the time. I would ask about their relationship, to find out if they are still in touch or whatever, but whenever he is even mentioned by _anyone_, she becomes this angry little fireball who's unbearable to be around.

I continue down to my room where I lock the door behind me and head straight into my wardrobe. I grab the notepad from the small suitcase I keep in a bottom shelf compartment in here, and sit with my back against my now closed wardrobe door as I write what I have learnt today. I began recording everything Bella tells me in a notebook from the moment I got home the night that I found out. I know that Bella doesn't want me telling anyone about the abuse that she suffers through, and as painful as it is for me, I'll abide by my promise, but that doesn't mean that I have to just sit by and do absolutely _nothing_. Even if no one ever sees this notebook, it makes me feel better knowing that I have _some _back-up if this were to ever get out. There is _no _way that I'd let Renee get away with _anything_ she does to Bella. To my girlfriend - that thought makes me smile despite the horrid words I am writing.

A knock on my bedroom door startles me just as I'm finishing up, causing me to ruin the last word. I quickly cross it out and rewrite it before hurrying to hide the notebook and answer my door.

My mother stands on the other side of it. "Why is your door locked?" she asks, highly suspicious.

"Um, I... I was, um..." _Real smooth. _I don't know how Bella can keep so much hidden.

"On second thoughts, I don't want to know," she says, shaking her head with a disturbed look on her face as she holds a parcel out to me. I blush at her insinuation, although I wasn't doing anything like... _that_, and take the parcel from her.

I frown down at it. It's not closed properly. "Did you open it?" I accuse, looking up at her. She doesn't even look ashamed.

"I had to make sure you weren't purchasing anything untoward online. You are my son. It's good to check in on your activities every now and then. You'll understand one day when you have children of your own."

She doesn't stay to talk for much more than that. She turns and walks away, heading up the stairs. I shake my head and close my door, purposefully not locking it as I sit at my desk to look over my purchase, to make sure it's all in order and my mother didn't tamper with it in any way. If she knew who it's really for then I wouldn't put it past her.

I pull the contents out of the box and smile as I look them over. _She's going to love them._

Bella's birthday is on Wednesday, in three days. I told her toward the beginning of the summer just gone that I'd make this birthday her best one yet, and I wasn't joking. I intend to make her day special, because something other than the fact that she spent her 13th birthday alone tells me that they've all been unimpressive since her father passed.

Almost everything is prepared for her birthday. I just have one more thing to sort out before Wednesday but I'll do that tomorrow. It won't be celebrated with anyone but me and her, I assume that's the way she'd want it. I mean, it's not like she'd want her mother around for her special day.

I've told my parents of my plans. My mother wasn't too pleased but I didn't give either of them much of a choice. My father had a completely different reaction to my mother. He praised me on my "generosity" and said that what I was doing was lovely and that Bella will be very happy with it. I can't work out what his game is exactly. He's not _extremely_ friendly with Bella, but he's accepting of her in his own way. He never asks about her and stays away whenever she's at our house, but he never speaks ill of her either, like my mother and sister often do.

Unfortunately, for my plans to work out, I had to ask the Monster if Bella could stay out past her curfew on her birthday. That conversation was sickening, which is an understatement. I hated every moment I was stood in front of her, every second she put on her false front and acted like the world's most doting mother to her wonderful daughter. It's easy to see why no one has ever suspected anything untoward going on in the Swan home. It sickened me to the core. But it was all for Bella, so I persevered. I had to act like nothing was wrong, because I know that if Renee ever found out that I know of her true ways, Bella wouldn't survive it. The only thing holding me back from cursing the bitch was the thought of the consequences that could have on Bella.

I drove to PA after school last Tuesday (Bella had a two hour shift at the bookstore) to 'visit my mother at work'. In reality, I was there to see Renee. My mother wasn't all too pleased to have me interrupting her work, but she didn't let on to that in front of anyone. It wasn't until we were alone in her office that she admonished me for turning up unannounced, and it was then that I told her I was there for another reason: to ask Renee about Bella's birthday. Technically, it was my _only_ reason for my surprise visit. My mother begrudgingly let me, though I would have gone through with it even if she hadn't. I guess I can be rebellious, as she has told me. She called Renee into her office for me, but she stayed in the room throughout the entire conversation, watching me out the corner of her eye.

I hoped that asking Mrs Monster in her place of work, in front of her boss, would mean that she'd feel like she had to say yes. I didn't even feel the slightest bit bad for ultimately forcing her into agreeing. I made a point of saying that Bella has absolutely no idea of my plans, in hopes that she wouldn't punish Bella for being put in a tricky situation. It was a huge risk, I know, but Bella hasn't mentioned anything so I assume it worked.

Once Renee said yes, and after she stressed the fact that she's _so _happy I made such plans because she just had too much to do to plan anything (bitch!), I decided to test her. I asked her if she had any suggestions on what to get Bella for a birthday gift and she replied immediately with "a nice pair of earrings or perhaps a necklace. Nothing too expensive, dear, but a few carats wouldn't go amiss." She failed the test. Her gift suggestion proved to me how little she knows about her own daughter because Bella never wears jewellery, excluding her two necklaces. She would hate it if I spent money on getting her something blingy, like something with diamonds. Either Renee really doesn't know her daughter at all, or she is hoping I get Bella something like she suggested so she can steal it for herself to either wear or sell. She knows my family is wealthy after all.

I didn't stay any longer than necessary, feeling dirty having even spoken to that monster at all. But it was worth it. That short while of torture was worth getting the permission to make Bella's day as perfect as I promised.

And it will be.

I hope.

* * *

**A/N: So, it was _Edward _who said ILY first. Did anyone expect that? I hope their heart-to-heart in the meadow was okay. I was worried about making it too cheesy, or not heartfelt enough. Let me know your thoughts on it in a review! I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you at the next chapter (either Wednesday or Thursday).**


	50. Chapter 50: 'Possible repercussions' (B)

**A/N: This is my shortest chapter in a while. I'll be updating again tomorrow, so hopefully that makes up for it. I won't say much here. See you at the bottom :)**

* * *

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Fifty: 'possible repercussions' (Bella POV)

_Monday 11 September 2017_

The smile on my face is unbreakable from the moment I wake up. It's as bright as the sun shining through my bedroom window - albeit _low _sun; it is September after all. It's probably a bit chilly out there, too, but that doesn't matter. Nothing can spoil my good mood today.

I'm even _more_ delighted when I look out of my bedroom window and see that Renee's car is already gone. She's not here! If it's at all possible, my smile widens. I'm in danger of straining my face muscles, but I can't help it.

I sing loudly while I shower. I hum to a random tune as I pour myself a bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice. I _even _have a smile on my face as I make my mother's bed. I tap my foot to an imaginary beat as I browse my wardrobe for something to wear.

I'm in a contagiously good mood, ultimately because... I'm loved. I have a boyfriend and I'm loved! I'm in love with and loved by Edward. _He loves me!_ I still can't quite believe it. He. Loves. Me. _Me!_ Not the devil duo who so obviously like him. Not Rosalie Hale, who _everyone _seems to love because she's the mayor's daughter. No one but _me._

I sigh in blissful content as I pull the clothes I've chosen to wear today from their hangers and drawers and get dressed. He _loves _me, and he wasn't afraid to tell me. I feel like doing a girly squeal and jumping up and down. Actually, _y__ou know what..._

. . .

Once I've finished my uncharacteristic celebration, I grab my bag, make sure all that I need is in it, and head downstairs. It's not long before I'm driving away from my house, _still _with a ridiculously large grin on my face. I chanced looking at myself in the mirror when I was getting ready; I look crazed! I understand the term _crazy in love _now.

As I drive to school, I hum Beyonce's song 'Crazy In Love'.

I look for Edward's car as I pull into the school's parking lot. I don't have to look for long because barely thirty seconds after I've turned my engine off, his car glides into the empty space beside me and my smile stretches _further._

We still have a little under fifteen minutes before we have to be in class. We both arrived earlier than we usually do, and at that thought, mentally my smile grows - it's not physically possible for it to _actually_ grow any more; I'm maxed out. He must have been as eager to see me as I am to see him. His smile is just as large as mine as he stands from his car. I quickly climb out of my truck and walk as calmly as I can around the bonnet of his car to get to him.

As soon as I'm close enough, I reach out for his hand. My hand doesn't quite meet it's desired destination, however, because Edward, noticing my clear intention, quickly shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark denim jeans as he looks around us, scoping out the teenagers still in the parking lot - which is a lot, considering the time for getting to class is nearing ten minutes now.

I quickly retract my outstretched hand, but don't look around like he does. My eyes are fixed firmly on his face, and that smile I've been wearing all morning, the one that I was sure was indestructible, vanishes. Just like that. Gone.

When Edward returns his wary gaze to mine, I instantly want to drop my eyes to the floor, not sure of all that I'm feeling but knowing that I don't want to meet his eyes and let him see the strong mix of hurt and dejection and confusion. Like I said, I'm not sure of _all_ that I'm feeling right now. However, I remain strong, at least I think so, and hold eye contact with him.

He looks like someone ran over his puppy as he stares at me, not a single trace of that smile we shared before he rejected me. _Why, Edward? TELL ME! _And as if he heard my silent plea, he starts to explain. "I... I should have said this yesterday, but I don't think we should broadcast our relationship just yet," he says quietly as he leans closer so no one else can hear his words.

"Oh," is my intellectual response, "...okay." The tone of my voice does _nothing _to hide my hurt and a little bit of anger, but I hate that because the look on his face changes to not only seem like someone ran over his puppy, but like someone also flushed his goldfish down the toilet.

Like someone just told him they want to keep you a secret... oh wait, no, that was me.

"I'm sorry," he says, and I can't deny the fact that he is sincere in his apology. Doesn't take away the sting though. "I just… I think it would be best to keep it between us for a while longer," he says.

"Yeah, no. No, don't apologise. It's fine. It's totally fine," I says, hastening to lower my gaze to the floor. I caved into my instincts, which were telling me to hide. I keep my eyes downcast and nod like I understand, before shaking my head imperceptibly so my hair, which I'd tucked behind my ear after parking my truck, creates a shield around me.

Bella?" he asks quietly. I can feel his eyes on me. I'm stubborn and don't look up. "Bella, will you look at me? Please?" I sigh and slowly raise my head, schooling my features as I do so. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. You're right," I say, even though I don't know what the hell I'm saying. "We shouldn't tell anyone." I avert my eyes from his sad looking, worried, guilty gaze for a long ten second count, not wanting the tears burning at my eyeballs to show. I manage to fight them off and, after thinking for another five or six seconds, the silence between us the loudest thing in the still partially full parking lot, I look back at his face. "Why shouldn't we tell anyone?"

Edward rubs at the back of his neck and looks away, his entire aura screaming how uncomfortable my question has made him. "Well, I just want to be able to enjoy us a little longer. Some people won't like it and I don't want to have to deal with all the hassle just yet."

"Who wouldn't-" I begin to question but then _ding_, I understand. Not fully - I thought he was past caring what they thought - but I understand a bit more now. "_Oh_. Your parents," I say like it's the most obvious of answers.

"Yeah," he replies, briefly looking at me to offer me a shameful tilt of his lips, before dropping his gaze to the floor, using my tactics.

"Okay. That makes sense… I guess." But even as I say this, all I can think is, _does it? Does it _really _make sense?_ Because although I know of the troubles he has with his parents, shouldn't he love me enough to want everyone to know? Like I love him? Or maybe him not wanting to tell anyone _just yet_ shows that he really does love me enough? It makes _some_ sense, him wanting to keep me to himself in peace for a little while. Doesn't it?

Oh, I'm so confused. I don't know what to think. I can't make heads or tails of what I should and should not be feeling right now. All I know is what I _do_ feel: confused and hurt and slightly angry. But mostly bitter at our circumstances. _Stupid snobby stuck up no good-_

"Bella?" his wary but quiet call of my name brings me out of my head and into the present, where I don't want to be right now.

"Um, I just remembered, I have a book I need to returm to the library before first class." It's a lame excuse to get away because I don't have a library book that needs returning. I know it and he knows it. But he pretends like it's the truth, probably feeling as confused as I am right now. At least I'm assuming so.

"Okay, I'll come with you," Edward says, stepping toward me. I take a hasty, stumbling step backwards.

"No, you don't have to. There's no need. I'll see you later," I say as I step back a couple more steps. Then I turn and walk briskly away from him, feeling a harrowing moment of déjavu as I leave Edward calling my name from behind me.

He stops shouting when he notices, at around the same time I do, that his hollering is garnering much unwanted attention. And to make matters worse, Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, Tyler, Lauren, and Jessica all stand by the double doors that allow entrance into the school. _For heavens sake_. I am really _not_ in the mood.

"Having a lovers tiff, are we, Isabella?" Lauren taunts as I approach the doors.

"Fuck off," is my curt response as I am about to pass them. The gasps that follow my reply aren't just from the group that were on the receiving end of it.

"How dare you talk to me like that!" Lauren shouts as I pass the group. I ignore her, which angers her, and her unbiological twin, further.

Nails dig into the skin of my arm as a hand wraps around it, attempting to pull me to a stop. "Oi, bitch! Don't ignore us when we-"

Jessica's words are interrupted by my fist as it connects with her face. My hand is left with a pleasant ache as hers releases my arm. Chaos then ensues. Jessica screams bloody murder as the rest of the group, as well as onlookers, start shouting at me, the 'crazy bitch'. Rosalie is comforting Jessica and Alice is stood by, stunned. Lauren, in defence of her friend, comes charging at me but I quickly side step her and she goes barrelling into the wall behind me. I'd laugh if I wasn't so agitated. She tries to keep her pride by casually walking back to her friends with a bump of her shoulder against mine, but I see the way she tries to mask the way she rubs at the top of her head by pretending to smooth out her hair.

People are quickly surrounding the spectacle, and emerging at the front of the circle is Edward, who looks shocked, guilty and a tiny bit proud all at once.

"Out of my way! Let me through!"

A hush spreads through the crowd of students, only disturbed by Jessica's wailing, as Mrs Gabbon, one of the Upper School math teachers makes her way to the scene. She's a lanky, twig-like woman with small semi-circle lensed glasses perched on the end of her hooked nose. She always wears cotton, and today's choice is a red button down, perfect for the occasion, seeing as it matches the shade of red that is currently pouring from Jessica's nose.

"_What _is going on here? Anyone without an answer off to class right now before you all get an after school detention!"

Oh yeah, did I mention she's one of the strictest, most hated teachers in the school?

Reluctantly, people trickle away. Edward tries to hang around, but with one stern glare from Mrs Gabbon, he's trailing off too, looking back at me with every step.

"Mrs Gabbon, it was all her!" Jessica says from beneath her hand that is cradling her face as she points at me with the other. "She _hit_ me! See? I think she broke my nose! She's crazy! Anyone will tell you that."

"Miss Swan." When Mrs Gabbon addresses me, I stand to attention, not expecting her to know my name. "You, come with me." Then she turns to the 'wounded' party. "Rosalie, dear," - _Dear? _Oh God, the special treatment! - "Will you take your friend here to the nurses office? Tell them I'll be by once I've dealt with Miss Swan. The rest of you to class. Now!"

"Of course, Helen." _Helen?_ It doesn't really surprise me that Rosalie is on a first name basis with the teachers of this school. Her father probably has them round for dinners or whatever. I don't really know how being the Mayor of a small town such as this works beyond the public speeches and appearances. "Come on, Lauren, Alice. You can come with me. See you later, boys," Rosalie says, leading away a crying Jessica while the two other girls glare at me as they trail behind her. Mrs Gabbon doesn't argue against Rosalie's blatant overruling of her own orders, but she wouldn't dare to - it's probably more than her jobs worth.

She turns on her heel and marches away, not looking back to see if I'm following her but expecting me to all the same. I don't know where we're going until we turn to the corridor that houses the Principals office. I gulp, knowing that this isn't going to end well for me.

**~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~**

After explaining as much as I could without incriminating the 'gems' of Forks High that is Rosalie Hale and her friends - which meant I couldn't say much at all - I failed to persuade the Principal against his insistence on calling my mother about this 'incident'. That's what I regret most. That she'll be contacted and likely go mad about this. It's been distracting me from my work all morning.

I'm violent and 'a danger to other students', and will be isolated from classes for all of today. I'll be allowed out of the 'cube', as the isolation room is called here, for lunch but won't be allowed into the cafeteria. Honestly, I would be happy if I didn't leave this room until the end of school, but Edward has been spamming my phone with messages all morning and I can ignore them all I want now, but he knows where I am. It'll definitely be student knowledge by now. He could easily come here.

I've been informed that I didn't break Jessica's nose, _unfortunately_, but I did inflict some serious bruising. She's been sent home, but her parents insisted on taking her to the hospital first, or so I've been told. As well as the isolation and phonecall home, I've been instructed to write a letter of apology to Jessica. That's going to be a difficult task to complete. It has to be done and on the Principal's desk before I leave school this afternoon. I've also received detentions, but after informing the school of my work schedule after school everyday, it's been moved to a Saturday detention this weekend. It'll be for two and a half hours, to make up for the five half-hour after schools I'll be missing this week.

So far, the second week of Junior Year is going _excellently._ This school year so far, as a whole, has been a ball!

The lunch bell rings and Mrs Gabbon arrives on the dot to escort me to wherever it is I would like to spend my lunch, except for the cafeteria of course. She seems to have made it her personal mission to see to it that I'm punished thoroughly for my behavior. She was the one to inform the Principal of the state she had seen Jessica in as well as the fact that it was _Rosalie _who was tending to the 'victim'. The emphasis on Rosalie isn't made up by me. She really said it like that, as if to prove to him the seriousness of the situation. I don't know if it made a difference, but Edward, nor Mike got the treatment that I have when they had their fight. Mike got a couple detentions and both of them got a thorough telling off, but nothing more.

I walk silently beside Mrs Gabbon, avoiding the stares and trying to block out the mumbling gossip of all the students around us as we make our way through the halls and to the library, which is where I texted Edward to meet me. Mrs Gabbon leaves as soon as I've entered the library and I sigh in relief, hating every moment spent in that woman's company.

Edward arrives at our corner only two minutes after I slump down to the floor. I have my head in my hands and only raise it when I hear Edward's quiet but frantic "Bella!"

He quickly sits down beside me and, after depositing the food he bought for the two of us, wraps his arm around my shoulder. Despite our earlier mishap, I lean into his touch, needing the comfort. When I pull away, he's waiting eagerly for an explanation. "What's happened? Were you punished? Let off with a warning? What?"

I sigh and pick up a sandwich box. I start picking at the label on the cardboard triangular box as I retell to him almost all that's happened since he had to go to lesson. He is appalled by the harshness of my _multiple _punishments, but he hasn't heard the worst bit yet. I go silent and can feel him staring at me. Not feeling hungry at all, I throw the sandwich box down with an agitated huff.

"Edward," I stress, turning my head to look at him. "They're going to call Renee! They're going to tell her what I did and she's going to go ape at me for it. _God_, why did I do that? Why didn't I just shrug her off and walk on."

"Fuck," is his whispered response as he goes as white as a ghost, his complexion most likely matching mine. He drops his sandwich box between his slightly parted legs. "I am _so_ sorry, Bella."

"What for?"

"If I hadn't made you so upset then none of this would have happened."

"Don't," I say as I look down. "It's not your fault. It was going to happen sooner or later. They push me enough, I was bound to snap."

"Still, I was the one that got you so upset in the first place. I was the one that put you in that position. If I hadn't said what I'd said, if we'd walked in together, then this wouldn't have happened."

"Well, it happened, so..."

We both go silent, neither knowing what else to say. We begin eating slowly, both of our appetites lacking in the turn of events this day has taken. "It was a good punch," Edward says, being the first to break the silence as he nudges my shoulder with his.

I smirk and blush, side-eyeing him. "Thanks," I reply bashfully. He stares at me for several moments. The amusement leaves his face until he has only seriousness in his expression.

"Look, Bella, I know that I should have told you about me wanting to keep _us_ quiet for a little while yesterday. I just didn't want to ruin the day. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry."

I look down at my lap as I pick at the bread of my sandwich. "It's okay-"

"No, it's not. I hurt you today and I never _ever _want to do that. I am _so_ sorry," he says, moving to sit in front me so I can see the earnest look in his eyes.

"Please, Edward, I understand. _Really,_ I do. I was hurt at first, yes, and I'm still a little sad about it but I understand. I know how your family view me and I can only imagine how difficult they'll make our lives if they find out."

"_When _they find out, Bella. Not if. _When_. I do want to tell them. Honestly. I just want some time to _officially _be us first."

I nod, because I really do understand. I've had the whole morning to think it over, when I wasn't imagining all the ways Renee will punish me tonight. I don't hold it against him, this decision. Do I wish he'd told me sooner so I could have been better prepared? Yes. Was the school grounds the worst possible place he could have told me? Absolutely. But I'm _glad _he didn't tell me yesterday, because our afternoon together at our meadow was perfect, even with the moments of sadness when we spoke of Renee and her ways. I wouldn't trade those memories for the world.

"I get it, Edward. It'll be our secret until we're ready to tell people."

His eyes snap to mine and he stares at me questioningly for several moments. "Until _we're_ ready? Are you not ready either?" he asks warily.

With the time I've had to think over this today, I've had the chance to determine whether _I_ want people to know either. And to be honest, I want some time getting settled into the title of Edward's girlfriend without the tormenting and the _hassle,_ as Edward put it, but also because...

"I don't know how _my _mother will react either. Because she works so closely to your mom, I don't know if she'll be pleased or not. So, I don't mind waiting if it means holding off any... _possible repercussions_," I reply, whispering the last two words. We've been talking quietly since the moment he sat down, but I lowered my voice even further just to be safe.

"Okay, so we're agreed. We keep our relationship to ourselves, but _only_ for a little while," he clarifies, making a point of emphasising the last bit, like he's now afraid that I'll want to keep this a secret for more than is really necessary. In spite of my fears, I don't want to keep this a secret for any longer than he is comfortable with.

"Agreed," I say, nodding in affirmation. He smiles and I smile back. We continue to eat.

"How's your hand?" he asks me when we have ten minutes of lunch left. "Does it hurt?"

I look down at my right hand and flex and re-flex it, testing it's state. "There's a slight ache there but it's not too bad. I can handle it." Edward's answering smile is bittersweet, understanding what I meant: I've had worse. Much worse.

* * *

**A/N: I hope their decision to keep their relationship a secret didn't anger you too much. It was planned from the beginning. The punch, however, wasn't. That was totally spontaneous. Literally, as I wrote her walking away from Edward, it just popped into my head. I like having that in there. There needed to be a little of Bella getting back at them. That won't be the only moment in this story, I promise you. Her punishments were a made up thing. I have nothing to really go on so I went with what I wanted to, basically. Hopefully it wasn't too far off the mark. Anyway, thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review and I'll see you some point this weekend - hopefully tomorrow!**


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